Bless the Broken Road
by SnowblindLissaDream
Summary: Almost fifteen years post the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy find themselves in a life they could never have imagined. Both have lost their spouses in untimely deaths. Both have young children to contend with. What will happen when their worlds reconnect via a spouse loss grief group put on by St. Mungo's? Canon compliant even through epilogue.
1. Good to Gone

**Disclaimer:** We are in no way affiliated with JK Rowling or the Harry Potter Franchise. We are making no money off of our stories. This is just for fun.

* * *

**Title:** Bless the Broken Road  
**Author:** LissaDream & Snowblind12  
**BETAs:** RaynePhoenix2 & sab81790  
**Main Characters:** Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Potter, Harry Potter  
**Other Characters:** Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Weasleys up the wahzoo, Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, a few new OCs, Tinny, Bilby, Mony the Pony.  
**Possible Trigger Warnings:** character death, sexual content  
**Rating:** MA  
**Summary: **Almost fifteen years post the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy find themselves in a life they could never have imagined. Both have lost their spouses in untimely deaths. Both have young children to contend with. What will happen when their worlds reconnect via a spouse loss grief group put on by St. Mungo's? Canon compliant even through epilogue.

* * *

**TAGS**: character death, sexual content, masturbation, m/f smut, grief, drama, romance, kids, soul bond, mature Ron Weasley, post-Hogwarts, tearjerker, emotional trauma

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hello ladies and gentlemen! We are excited to be back! A note for you (mostly for those who have read this story in the past, but if you're new, please feel free to still read). First and foremost. PLEASE READ THIS STORY OVER. Please do not wait until we say, "TOTALLY NEW CHAPTER!" (Which should be about chapter 13). This story, when posted the first time, was not flushed out. It is now completed plotted and outlined. What was once the first five chapters, has been broken down to twelve chapters and about 12-15 new scenes have been or will be written and added to the old content. Some of the old content was barely changed, some of it was changed fairly significantly. Hopefully the things you loved are still here. I can say that with Snow's input and thoughts, I'm more excited about this story than ever! She really makes me a much, much better writer. All our stories have been better for having each other. (I know she agrees, or I wouldn't have said it!)

As for the fact that it shows there's a total of six chapters on AFF and AO3. We're sorry – there's not. We don't want to lose old reviews, so those chapters basically say, "Coming soon". We have also left a "this story has moved" on my account on FFN. We plan to update weekly. The first five chapters are ready to go and the is sixth more than halfway completed.

Even though this story is very different from our others (especially Master Mine and World Not Fit), we hope you enjoy it very much. It's a much sweeter, sadder drama/romance. It is a people story.

We are looking forward to sharing it with you!

All our love,  
Lissa (and Snow)

PS: Master Mine has not been abandoned! We will get back to it! This story was started long before MM was and it has been calling us! We hope you love it!

* * *

**Chapter One  
Good to Gone**

**_"Why does it have to go from good to gone?" *_**

* * *

**February 4****th****, 2006**

"The head is out!" the Mediwitch crowed in delight. "One more push should do it! You're doing great, mummy! You got this!"

"Come on, Tori, one more push," Draco encouraged. He smoothed her sweat soaked, dark chestnut locks out of her face. Giving her an affectionate smile, he took her hand again. "You can do it, baby."

Astoria gave him a jerky nod and a tight smile; the exhaustion was evident on her face. He watched her prepare for the coming contraction. Her face crumpled and pulled into a grimace of undeniable pain mixed with overwhelming fatigue. Gritting her teeth, she grunted and pushed with all her might. Her face and neck turned red with the effort. Draco watched in utter amazement as the slippery, purple infant with a white coating slid from his wife's body. It was the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed.

"It's a boy!" the Healer exclaimed as precious cries started to fill the room.

"I knew it!" Draco whooped as he turned back to Astoria. His eyes were filled with excitement and triumph, and he had expected to see her beautiful blue eyes watching their son. He had expected to see her face wet with tears of joy. He had expected it, but her expression was nothing of the sort. Instead, she was slumped back against the bed, her lovely eyes fixed and staring. A deep sense of foreboding washed away his jubilation.

"Tori?" Draco's question was fearful and left his lips just as high-pitched beeping wail pierced the room. For just a second, it seemed like the Healer and Mediwitches froze. Then utter chaos ensued. He was buffeted back against the wall and knocked his head.

"Tori!" His cry was desperate; his voice choked with fear.

"Get him out of here!" the Healer shouted.

"What's going on?" Draco demanded. Terror gripped his chest, making it hard to breathe. He couldn't think, couldn't…no. _This can't be happening._ "Please!" he cried when no one answered.

"You must come with me, Mr. Malfoy." A Mediwitch gripped his arm tightly and started to pull him from the room.

"No!" he protested. "What's wrong with my wife?"

"I said _get him out of here_!" the Healer cried again. Draco couldn't see the Healer or Astoria as at least another half of a dozen medical staff came surging into the room. Strong arms grasped him from behind and, even though he fought with all his might, he was dragged from the room by two large security wizards.

"Draco!" Narcissa Malfoy was running down the hall. Her face was a mask of fear and concern. "What's going on?" His father was behind her, but much more composed.

"Is it the baby?" Astoria's mother, Iris, questioned as she pushed her way between Lucius and Narcissa.

"Come." The Mediwitch – he thought her name was Daisy – grasped Draco's arm and beckoned his parents and mother-in-law forward. "There is a private waiting room just over here."

"I demand you tell me what is going on!" Draco seethed. The emotion of anger and his engrained haughtiness took over to help crush the stifling dread he felt deep in his gut.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," she responded placatingly. "Please, come." She gestured them through the door into the small, but luxurious waiting space. "I will try and figure out what is happening, sir. I will be back as quickly as I can." Before anyone in the room could protest, she was gone.

"What is going on, Draco?" Narcissa asked gently. She wound her hand through the arm of her twenty-five-year-old son, attempting to get him to look at her. "Is the baby all right?"

"I-I…I don't know." Draco was barely able to choke out the words. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Was he having a heart attack? He gulped for air before answering, "He was crying, the Medi-staff were excited – they seemed happy."

"He?" Lucius's face split into a grin. "A son then, Draco? Congratulations!" Narcissa shot him a mixed look of exasperation, delight, and concern. Of course, she was ecstatic to hear about the birth of her grandson, but something was not right. Her son was positively beside himself.

"I don't understand," Iris intoned, ignoring Lucius' words. She watched the face of her son-in-law carefully. "If the baby was crying, what happened?"

"Astoria…" Draco swallowed, a hand coming up to card through his hair. "I…oh my God." His throat closed and a sob wrenched his way up out of his chest.

Iris understood immediately, and tears started forming in her eyes as one hand came up to cover her mouth. Narcissa's lovely face paled to a terrifying shade of white and she pulled her son into her arms, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and stroking his back. Lucius looked shocked and then an uncharacteristic expression of sadness swept his features as he glanced to the doorway. The Mediwitch (whose name tag did indeed read _Daisy_) had returned. Her face was grave, and her eyes were sad. Four faces fixed on her. In her arms, she held a small bundle of soft receiving blankets. In them, an infant was squalling quietly, making smacking sounds with his lips.

"Healer Peters will be here to see you momentarily," she told them in a calm, soothing voice. "I thought that, in the meantime, you'd like to meet your son." The jerk of Draco's head and the glare he sent to the blankets in her arms made Daisy take a startled step back.

Iris watched Draco with undecipherable emotion in her eyes. She knew the rejection of his son came from his denial surrounding the sudden and unexpected death of his wife. Her heart ached with the knowledge her youngest daughter was dead. Somehow, she knew, even if she hadn't heard the words yet.

"I will take the child." She took a step forward and Daisy placed the bundle tenderly in his grandmother's arms.

"How about the fun facts?" She was making a valiant effort to bring a bit of joy to what should have been a very happy day. "Weight? Length?"

"Of course." Daisy gave the small group a tender smile, her eyes taking in the way the Malfoy's were clustered together. Draco was wrapped in Narcissa's protective arms while Lucius lorded over them both, bringing them a silent comfort. It was obviously a loving family. "This little guy was born at six fifty-two in the evening and weighs three-point-five-seven kilograms. He is 55.8 centimeters in length and absolutely perfect." Her face could only be described as peaceful and affectionate as she watched the infant in Iris' arms.

A moment later, Healer Peters entered the room. Face set with grim determination, she gestured to the chairs. "Please sit," she instructed the room at large. Daisy inconspicuously took her leave as the group of five found seats. Draco sat between his parents while Iris and the child settled in across from them.

"I am afraid Mrs. Astoria Malfoy suffered from an aneurysm in her brain that ruptured with the strain of childbirth." Draco couldn't believe how cold and unfeeling the words felt. Horror and grief swept over him in a tidal wave of emotion.

"She'll recover, though, yes?" Narcissa questioned, a hint of desperation in her voice. She adored the young woman who had made Draco so happy over the last three years. Astoria had become the daughter she never thought she'd have.

"I'm so sorry." Healer Peters' voice became soft and gentle, sadness seeping through and Draco's eyes slid closed in attempts to hide his pain and stop the tears that threatened to spill. "We did everything we could, but her heart stopped. We could not restart it. She died at seven-nineteen."

The silence was deafening, even the infant made no sound.

_Does he know his mother is dead? _

_Dead. _

_My wife is dead. _

_She never got to touch him, hold him…look at him. _

_She never even got to see him. _

Draco heard a strangled cry and looked around for the noise, startled. Only when his mother pulled his head into her chest did he realize it was he – himself – making such an undignified sound.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione Granger hummed happily as she redressed. She had just finished with her now weekly midwitch appointment. Her first child with husband Ronald Weasley was due mid-March and they were over the moon excited as they only had about six weeks to go.

"Gah, I will never get over how gorgeous you look with my daughter growing in your belly," Ron told her with his trademark half-grin. "You are so beautiful."

Hermione felt her face flush with pleasure as she met his blue eyes with her amber-colored stare. She smirked sheepishly at him before pulling her maternity dress over her bra and knickers. The moment the fabric fell into place, Ron was on her. Pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw while both hands gripped her belly. He laughed against her throat as their daughter kicked her mother hard, right where one of his hands lay.

"Hey there, pretty princess," he murmured down to Hermione's protruding abdomen.

Hermione's heart swelled with love for her husband of over four years. "You should get going," she told him gently as he straightened. She locked her arms around his neck and stood on her tip toe to plant a kiss on his lips. They laughed through their kiss as she over-balanced and he had to steady her. Ron kissed her forehead.

"I know," he agreed. "I promised boss that I'd only be out for my lunch hour, it's getting close."

Hermione nodded. "Say hello to Harry for me. Be safe."

Ron squeezed one of her hands and smiled at her. "I will," he promised.

They walked hand in hand to the reception area where he gave her one more kiss before disappearing into the floo. Hermione watched him go fondly before she turned and made her way to one of the magical lifts.

She was still feeling giddy after hearing her daughter's magically amplified heartbeat. Knowing she was only a few weeks away from holding her, Hermione couldn't resist popping up to the maternity ward to see if there were any new wee ones in the nursery.

The moment she stepped out of the empty lift, something felt wrong. There was a ping in her heart that ached like when she had finally realized it didn't matter how many specialists she brought in – no one was going to be able to reverse the memory charm on her parents. _Grief_. _How odd._ She rubbed her chest where the feeling lay as if the friction would make the sensation disappear.

She was slightly startled when a high-pitched wailing came from down one corridor. Her lips pulled into a frown. She knew something was not right but decided she would keep her head down and go peek through the nursery windows as she had planned. No one seemed to notice her as some staff came barreling down the hallway. She pressed herself to the wall to avoid their frantic stampede. She watched for a moment, her stomach tightening with concern. She hoped whatever was happening had a positive outcome.

She continued on her way and was not disappointed when she reached the leaded glass observatory window of the nursery. There was a total of three swaddled bundles – two pink and a blue – in pretty white wicker bassinets. She all but pressed her face to the glass in order to see better, her eyes sparkling as she took in tiny noses and long lashes laying on chubby pink cheeks. One of the little girls was of African descent with the most beautiful russet-brown skin tone and a thatch of springy black curls. Tears sprung to her eyes at how precious they all were.

She was not oblivious to the mayhem happening down the hall, but knew it was none of her business. Unconsciously, one hand rested on the pane as the little blue bundle began to squirm and his tiny face scrunched up. Her heart leapt, not wanting the poor little thing to cry. A house elf dressed in a candy-striper uniform popped in the moment a weak fuss began to emanate from the baby. The elf scooped the child up and they were gone in a blink, presumably to take the fussing tot to his mum.

Hermione sighed and leaned against the glass, her forehead resting on the cool material. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, watching the remaining infants in their peaceful slumber. It was only when an awful, anguish filled cry met her ears that she straightened in alarm.

She scolded herself internally for being a busybody, even as her feet automatically led her down the hallway. It was as if her entire being was drawn to that awful sound. Her hands clenched and unclenched reflexively, and her heart and mind felt weighted by this unknown person's grief.

She ducked behind a protruding half wall where there was a workstation as she watched a Healer leave a small waiting area and walk in the opposite direction down the hall, her head hung, and shoulders slumped as though she carried too great a weight. The door had been left slightly ajar.

_Hermione, turn around and go home. This is none of your business! _she demanded of herself. Something would not let her leave, however … and that same something drew her forward until she could peer through the crack in the door.

Her entire being froze – half in horror, half in shock – at the scene before her. Draco Malfoy sat slumped into his mother, sobbing forcefully, as his father stood over the two of them with a look of defeated grief on his face. A woman she did not recognize sat with a blue bundled infant who was making a heartbreaking mewling sound that caused her heart to flutter in alarm.

Even though she had no proof, she knew deep down that Draco Malfoy had just lost his wife in childbirth. His torment and sorrow hit her like a ton of bricks, and she retreated at the force of the sensation and one hand moved up to cover her mouth as tears sprung to her eyes.

A Mediwitch seemingly appeared out of nowhere, hissing words at Hermione that her formidable brain did not process. Though she did process the annoyed and disapproving look on the witch's face.

_Go_, she thought, _I have to go._

With that, she fled.

* * *

**_*"Here Comes Good-bye" written by Chris Sligh and Clint Lagerberg. Performed by Rascal Flatts from the album Unstoppable. Released January 2009._**


	2. What Hurts the Most

**BETAs: **RaynePhoenix2 & sab81790

* * *

**Chapter Two  
What Hurts the Most**

* * *

**_"_****_It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go, but I'm doing it." *_**

* * *

**February 11t****h****, 2006**

"What's the matter, 'Mione?!" Ron asked worriedly as he rushed to the table where his wife was sitting, quietly sobbing into her coffee cup as she stared, empty eyed, at an open copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

Ron dropped his hands on his wife's slender shoulders while leaning over her to take in what she was reading. "Obituaries? Merlin, Hermione, who died?"

"A-astoria Malfoy," Hermione wept. "She had a brain aneurysm that ruptured d-during childbirth. Her funeral is today." She broke into more quiet sniffles and reached to pull a few tissues out of the box that was sitting on the table to dab her eyes as Ron leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

He reached next to her and moved a chair so he could sit down close to her before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. "Draco Malfoy's wife?" he asked in a soft voice. He felt Hermione nod against him. "Wow, 'Mione. That really…sucks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He felt bad for Malfoy, he couldn't imagine losing Hermione. If he was being honest with himself, however, it didn't really affect him as it seemed to be affecting his wife.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed, nuzzling her face into Ron's chest as his body heat seeped into her skin. She already felt better, just having Ron hold her and agree that Malfoy's lot in life really had taken a turn for the worse. Part of her was upset because of all the "what ifs" running through her head. What if something happened to her during childbirth? What if something happened to the baby? What if she had to have magical cesarean section and had to be put to sleep?

Another part of her felt beyond awful for Malfoy, though. The poor bloke had been through more than his fair share of shit in life. Being raised by bigoted parents who brainwashed him, being forced to take the Mark because of his father's failures. He had been assigned to murder Albus Dumbledore – at sixteen! He had just been a child! Living with that monster in his home…just. She was heartbroken for him…and for his innocent son. Why did his life have to continue to be so miserable? _And why do I care so much?_

* * *

Draco stood in the master suite of the West Wing at Malfoy Manor, staring at himself in the mirror of the bathroom he had shared with his wife and best friend for the last three years. His reflection would be perfect if it weren't for the purple bruises under his steel grey eyes and the hallow, sallowness of his cheeks. Grief changed one's features, however.

He had grown into himself. No longer was he gangly limbs and awkward movements. He had shot up a few more inches since leaving Hogwarts, topping out at just over six feet. Always vainly liking the way his hair fell in his eyes, he kept his platinum blond locks shaved up the sides, but longer on top. Draco was what people liked to call a beautiful man. He boasted a chiseled face with a strong jaw, a straight nose, and full lips. His brow line and eyes were unique as he had received them from his mother. His wide eyes and long lashes gave him a face of beauty versus the more masculine word handsome. He had filled out and remained very active and his muscles were thick, defined, and ropey. His broad shoulders and chest tapered into a slender waist with jutting hip bones down to thick, powerful legs. He turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see how haunted he looked.

They had buried Astoria Greengrass Malfoy in the family plot earlier that day. Underneath the large willow she was so fond of. The image of the casket holding his beautiful, twenty-three-year-old wife lowering into the ground replayed in his mind. The roiling sick from that moment came back full force and he barely made it to the toilet before losing what little he had in him. As he retched into the black porcelain, his thoughts raced. For what seemed like the millionth time in the last week, all he could things was, _I can't believe she's gone. This can't be happening. Life was just starting. It was just getting good. I was just starting to feel happy. _He spat into the toilet as the contractions of his stomach subsided and flushed it before moving back to the sink to rinse his mouth and clean his teeth.

Draco pulled the cravat from his neck and shed his dress robes into a heap at his feet – the house elves would take care of them later. He flicked his wand at the shower, and the multi-headed torrent of water started to pummel the black and green-veined marble walls and smoke-glass doors. He let the water warm before stepping into the punishing spray. The heat calmed him greatly, forcing his tense muscles to unclench and relax, but it also opened his mind. His thoughts were nothing but pain and loss and the tears of grief started to slide easily down his face and mix with the shower spray.

Sobs left him in great heaves of agony, and he leaned his forehead into the cool stone of the stall wall. After a long time, he calmed enough to straightened and shut off the taps. Wrapping his waist in a thick towel, he padded barefoot to the large walk-in wardrobe that joined the bathroom to the bedchamber. He avoided looking to the left, where Astoria's things were kept along with her makeup vanity and all those odds and ends women think they need to be beautiful. Instead, he turned right, into his own wardrobe. Draco pulled a pair of soft, grey fleece pants from his dresser and a white cotton tee from a hanger and slipped into them. He was looking forward to the oblivion sleep would give him.

He walked back into his bedroom and stopped, something seemed out of place. Looking around for a moment, his eyes finally fell to the bed. In the middle of it, he spotted a bundle of blankets with a tiny fist was waving around outside of the folds of cloth. He panicked, quickly walking to his chamber doors with every intention to flee. They were locked, and the terror continued to rise.

"Tinny!" he exclaimed to no one, but the house elf heard him. He was stalking across the room, back to the bathroom to search for his wand, when he heard the elf _crack_ into existence.

"What can Tinny do for young Master?" she asked, her bulbous eyes watching him warily from across the room.

"Why is my door locked?" He demanded, pointing his wand at the door with a silent _Alohamora. _It did not budge.

"Young Master will not be able to open the door," Tinny said in an apologetic voice. "Master and Mistress forbid it. They is saying young Master must bond with the wee one."

Draco looked at the elf in horror. "Tinny, I demand you let me out of here at once."

"I is sorry, Master. I cannot be doing this."

"Tinny!"

"Tinny is threatened with _clothes_, young Master. Tinny is allowed to bring young Master anything he wishes for personal comfort, sir. Anything he needs for the wee one. But Tinny is not being allowed to let young Master leave his room or to take the wee one out of his care. Mistress is telling Tinny young Master must look after the babe." Tinny was very unhappy to be upsetting Draco, whom she helped bring up from infancy, but was more terrified of Lucius and Narcissa by far. Her ears were flat against her head.

Draco closed his eyes. His mother was a stubborn piece of work on her best days. She was furious with him for refusing to even look at the little monster on the bed, let alone touch or hold him. "Tinny, tell my mother she much come and fetch the child at once."

"Tinny will let Mistress now of young Master's discomfort."

"Please, Tinny, and thank you. You may be dismissed." It wasn't that Draco would hurt the child, and he knew his mother knew this. He just…couldn't look at him. Couldn't touch him. He was struggling with the misguided notion that this little person in the middle of his and Astoria's bed was the reason his beloved wife was gone. Deep down he knew this was utter rubbish, but the pain was just too new. The wounds were too raw. He glanced at the little, undefinable lump of fabric and, for the first time since he had been told his wife was dead, felt a tug of curiosity pull at him. Walking slowly across the room, Draco never even noticed the _crack_ that sounded as the elf Disapparated.

He stood at the edge of the large bed, hands shoved into the pockets of his lounge pants, wet platinum blond hair dripping into his eyes. Slowly, so slowly, he crawled onto the bed and settled beside the child, who was starting to whimper. The little, pink infant rutted with his mouth in the folds of the blanket. Cautiously, Draco slipped his hands into the soft warmth of the bundle and pulled the blanket away from the face of the child. His child. _Her _child. Draco drank in the sight of a beautiful, tiny, perfect face. His eyes were wide open and a small, slightly distressed whimper left him as he continued to search for nourishment. The child had her nose and lips and his eyes. Draco's breath caught. _My son – our son._

* * *

**_*"What Hurt the Most" written by Jeffrey Steele and Steve Robson. Performed by Rascal Flatts from the album And the Crowd Goes Wild. Released October 2003._**


	3. Here Comes Good-bye

**BETAs:** RaynePhoenix2 & sab81790

* * *

**Chapter Three  
****Here Comes Goodbye**

* * *

_**Approximately Six Years After Astoria's Death**_

* * *

**"****Here comes goodbye. Here comes the last time. Here comes the start of every sleepless night. The first of every tear I'm going to cry. Here comes the pain. Here comes me wishing things would never change and you were right here in my arms tonight. Here comes goodbye." ***

* * *

**May 2****nd****, 2012**

"Ron! We're going to be late, and you still need to get Hugo to the nursery!" Hermione Granger-Weasley called up the stairs of their small, two-story home.

"I'm coming, sweetheart!" Ron's reply came with just a touch of exasperation and she grinned at the ceiling before going back to the diligent preparation for the upcoming departure of their red haired, befreckled, four-year-old son. At his mother's silly expression, Hugo gave her a lopsided smile, much like that of his father's.

"Daddy's late again?" he asked her in a sweet, high-pitched voice.

"As always!" She tapped him on the nose with a smile and finished zipping his light coat. It was promising to be a nice, warm spring day, but the mornings were still cool. "Are you ready to go to nursery, love bug?"

"Yes! I'm essited to see Lily! I love my Lily." The last part of the sentence was said with such sloppy, loving warmth it made Hermione's heart swell. She envied her children their many cousins; growing up so alone had been no way to live. She adored her big, extended family.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Ron dashed into the kitchen. His blue eyes were bright with happiness and that same, lop-sided grin was on his handsome face. His expression lit the room and sent a twinge of desire to her womb. _I think it's time to ask him about one more baby_.

"Good morning, little man!" He scooped Hugo up into his arms. The tot gave an appreciative squeal and Hermione laughed brightly as Ron tossed the child lightly in the air and then wrapped him in a protective hug while dropping a kiss to the thatch thick, unruly curls.

"'Morning Daddy!" Hugo squealed, snuggling into his dad's embrace.

"'Morning, Hugo…'Mione." Ron leaned down to press a kiss to Hermione's lips which she returned with ardent enthusiasm. He slipped his tongue past her lips and one arm left the cocoon he had made for his son to wrap around his wife's slender waist. Ten years of marriage had not dampened his love for her – as his best friend or his wife. In fact, things just seemed to get better every year.

"Morning, love," she responded dreamily after he pulled away. Ron raised his hand from her waist and brushed a stray curl from her face before smoothing the light laugh lines at the corner of one of eye.

"You look lovely, as always." The crooked grin, plus the compliment, brought a light blush to Hermione's cheeks. She stood up on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth.

"I've been thinking…" She trailed off, watching him devour his son's face with his eyes. _Gods, he's such a wonderful daddy_. Ron tilted his head and looked down at her as she slipped both arms around his slender waist.

"That's always dangerous." Ron's eyes twinkled with mirth and she gave him a playful slap on the arm.

"Hey!" she chuckled. "Do you want to know? Or are you going to tease me all morning?"

"I always want to know what's going on in that brilliant brain of yours," he told her seriously, but his eyes did not lose their mischief. She grinned.

"I'm thinking it's time for another one of these." She ran her hand through Hugo's curls lovingly, warm amber eyes watching her husband's face expectantly. His own eyes widened as a full grin slowly split his face.

"Yeah?" He set Hugo down and urged him to go play for a few minutes before they had to go.

"Yeah." Hermione crinkled her nose as her smiled widened. Ron wrapped one arm around her and tilted her face up by the chin, plopping a chaste kiss on her lips. "Would you be okay with that?" she wondered teasingly.

"Would I be…? Bloody hell, woman. I want to get started right away!" He slapped her bum playfully and she let out a squeak of surprise, there was mirth and pleasure etched into every line of her face. He sealed his mouth to hers hungrily, both hands now cupping her backside as he pulled her into his growing desire as evidence he was not lying. She returned the kiss with vigor for a bit before coming to her senses.

"We can get started tonight." Hermione waggled her eyebrows at him as she pulled away. Ron heaved a sigh of regret and reluctantly let her go.

She put Hugo's lovey in his backpack before handing it to Ron, along with the bacon sandwich she had made him for breakfast, and his lunch container. Ron called to Hugo to come back and get ready to floo out. "I'll see you for lunch?"

"Not today, sweetheart, I'm sorry." He gave her an apologetic look and dropped a kiss to her forehead before taking the items from her. "Harry and I are patrolling Diagon Alley." He grimaced. "There's usually some sort of idiocy that happens today, you know that. All Aurors are on high alert and in the field."

Hermione felt her mouth tug into a tight frown, her teeth coming out to worry her bottom lip. Yes, she knew – she was just trying to forget that today was the fourteenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort.

"Hey," Ron paused and used his thumb to pluck her bottom lip, "none of this, everything will be fine." He gave her another gentle kiss.

The assurance helped pull Hermione out of her worry. "Yes, I forgot about the patrol today. I'll see you at home tonight, then. I'll get Rose from your mum and dad's, I already sent her through the floo to do her tutoring with Albus and Dominique at Shell Cottage. Fleur will send her to your mum's when their lessons are done for the day. Don't forget to pick Hugo up from the Ministry nursery before you come home!"

Ron pouted. "I forget once – _once _– and you feel the need to remind me every day for the rest of my life!" The comment was laced with feigned frustration and Hermione threw a smirk at him over her shoulder as she pulled her traveling cloak on. He winked at her. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you!" she called as she slipped her bag over her shoulder and, after grabbing a pinch of floo powder, disappeared into the fireplace.

Hermione's morning moved quickly as usual. She was just returning to her desk after lunch, when screams echoed the halls. She rose from her desk in alarm and heard someone sobbing from behind a closed door. Pumps clacking on the tile floor, she broke into run. She exited the cubicles of her co-workers in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures where she held the Assistant Head position. "What's going on?" she inquired wildly, grabbing the arm of Melissa Pennyworth.

"There was an attack in Diagon Alley, an explosion. It's bad, Hermione, really bad. There saying a dozen or more injured or dead."

Hermione's face drained of blood and the room spun alarmingly. She forced her suddenly parched throat to move as she attempted to swallow her fear. _Ron and Harry are fine, they'll be fine._ They would be helping people; she would go to Diagon Alley and help. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and then shook her head. No…she would start at St. Mungo's to look for them, she shouldn't put herself in unnecessary danger.

"Melissa, tell everyone they're dismissed. Go home and be with your family."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" her co-worker asked softly, noticing the demeanor and pallor of her boss.

"I'll be fine, I just need to check on Ron and Harry," she answered before forcing a smile to her lips. "I'm going to see if I can find Kingsley – see if he knows what's happening." Pulling her work-friend into a brief hug, she told her to be safe and then departed.

Hermione couldn't find Kingsley, so she went to the nursery, instead. She didn't want to leave the children at the Ministry in case something was to happen in the government building, as well.

"Hermione!" Susan Bones greeted her old classmate with a worried expression from behind the front desk of the childcare center. "Are you okay?"

"I think so, Susan," she answered cautiously. "I'm here to pick up the kids. I'm going to take Hugo and Lily over to the Weasley's and see if I can find Ron and Harry at St. Mungo's. I'm just worried." She waved off her anxiety with a flip of one hand. "Do the children know what's been going on?"

"No, we've kept it quiet. Although, I think they known something is wrong. We've had a lot of parents come pick up their kids in the last thirty minutes – not that I blame them!"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly.

"I'll get them ready for you, why don't you take a moment and collect yourself here? I'll bring them out in a mo'."

Hermione expressed her gratitude and plopped down on a chair. She placed her elbows on her knees and fisted her hands into her hair. Pulling in deep breaths, she attempted to calm her thundering heart and racing mind. _They're fine. They're fine. They're going to be just fine._ She attempted, in vain, to calm herself. The thick, cloying sense of dread that had filled her the moment she heard the first scream would not leave. Something was _wrong_. Fear was starting to claw through her being.

"Here we are! Here's your mum, Hugo, and your auntie, Lily!" Susan's cheerful voice broke through the fog of panic that was threatening to overwhelm her.

"Hello, my lovelies!" She forced a happy smile on her face and opened her arms to be filled by two beautiful, redheaded children. Both the tots squealed with joy and flung themselves into her arms. She squeezed them with all her might, pressing kisses to the tops of their heads.

"Should we go to MiMi's?" she asked the two four-year-olds gently.

"Yeah! MiMi and Pops?" Hugo pulled back with his father's lopsided grin plastered on his face and Hermione's heart leapt.

"Yes, love bug, let's go." She took the children and guided them into the Atrium. They stepped up to one of the humongous fireplaces and she let go of Hugo in order to throw a small handful of floo powder into the grate. She reclaimed her son's hand before stepping into the green flames and crying out, "The Burrow!"

Moments later, they spilled out of the Weasley's fireplace. Molly spun around from where she was at the sink, her hand fluttering to her chest and her eyes wide. "Hermione!" she exclaimed. "Oh, dear! You startled me so!" She stopped herself suddenly and her eyes narrowed, taking in Hermione's carefully controlled features.

The younger witch knelt down and pulled the children around to face her. "I want you to go to the playroom right away, I need to talk to MiMi in private," she told them, sliding their bags off their shoulders. "Then I have to go, but I'll back to get you soon." Both children nodded solemnly at her grave expression and bolted out of the room after stopping quick to give their grandmother a hug hello.

"Hermione, dear, you're starting to scare me," Molly said softly, watching her daughter-in-law's face with keen interest.

"There was an attack in Diagon Alley – an explosion." Molly's face blanched and Hermione cleared her throat twice in attempts to make the tightness go away. "Harry and Ron were both on patrol there today, and I can't get any information. I'd like to go, but I don't want to put myself in danger. I was thinking I'd collect Ginny and go over to St. Mungo's…?" Her statement broke off as a question. She was looking for approval, she wanted someone else to tell her she wasn't being overly cautious.

"I think that's a good idea. Please keep me informed?"

"Of course, Molly." The young witch leaned over and kissed her mother-in-law on the cheek. "I love you; I'll be back to get the kids as soon as I know something."

Ginny was not at Grimmauld Place as expected, so she immediately flooed over to the hospital. When she arrived, it was to utter pandemonium. She stood frozen at the hearth, her eyes scanning the crowds of people in shock. She didn't move, didn't even blink, until she heard the floo flame again behind her and hastily stepped out of the way for the next person coming in. That next person was a frantic, tearful Ginny who didn't even notice Hermione as she pushed past, calling for her husband.

"Harry!" she cried, scanning the crowd. A messy, black haired head pop out from behind a curtain where he was assisting someone who was being triaged. Green eyes hidden behind broken spectacles focused on his wife instantly. "Harry! I couldn't find her. She wasn't at the Ministry or their house!"

"I'm right behind you Ginny." Relief that Harry was okay was evident in her voice. She tried to keep her tone bright as her sister-in-law spun in a circle, eyes widening in surprise. "I couldn't find you either, I – oh!" She broke off with a huff when Ginny threw herself at the curly-haired brunette and squeezed, effectively forcing the air from her lungs. Suddenly, she was engulfed by a stronger pair of arms from behind. She was being swallowed by a Potter sandwich.

Then she knew –_ Oh no! _She knew. Her knee's buckled and she felt tears sliding down her cheeks as they supported her.

"No," she whispered against Ginny's ear. "Tell me he's okay. Tell me he'll be fine," she begged. Her breath was sticking in her lungs and she couldn't control the flow of tears dripping down her face.

"I can't, Hermione." Ginny's voice was thick with emotion. "I can't tell you that."

"Harry!" Hermione's voice was pure devastation. She pushed Ginny away in horror and spun around in her best friend's arms. She shoved him just far enough away to look into his eyes. They were full of unshed tears and red-rimmed, like he had already been crying. "Harry, _no!_" she cried, slamming her fists into his chest. He stumbled back a step and she let out a tormented sob and struck him again, arms flailing wildly. He grasped her elbows in both his palms and tried to pull her against him as a sob broke through his tenuous control. His emerald eyes glistened as fat tears spilled over his lower eyelids.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he choked. "He was just…gone."

Hermione froze in disbelief for just a moment. The words had been said – _Oh gods! Gone! Ron…no!_ Everything was a blur after that moment. She didn't realize the anguished screams of denial were her own. Her hands came up to grip the curls coming loose on either side of her head. Her face was a mask of incredulity and shock and pure anguish.

Harry held a hand out to her as she started screaming nonsensical denial. She bent at the waist in her torment, tears dripping from her chin as more streamed from her eyes.

"Harry…no!" she begged her best friend. Begged him to it to not be true. Straightening, Hermione reached out for him. Harry gathered her to him in a tight embrace, trying to hold her together. "No, no, no. _Please,_ no!" She collapsed against him, defeated, when all he could do was murmur apologies in her ear through his own tears.

She felt Ginny slide back in against her as the dam of anger broke and horrible, terrible, grief claimed her with an evil, unrelenting vengeance. Awful, wordless sobs and exclamations left her as her new reality started to sink in.

The three family members held each other tightly as their world came crashing in around them.

* * *

A ping in his chest startled Draco Malfoy. He glanced up from his parchment work to the timepiece on his desk at Malfoy Enterprises, surprised to note that he had missed lunch. The surprise only lasted a moment, though, as the feeling in his chest deepened into an anxious worry.

Sitting back in his luxurious office chair, he moved one hand up to rub over the spot above his heart. He tried to place the feeling, but at the moment could not. Attempting to shake off the sensation, he reached to dip his quill in the inkpot and forced his attention back to the parchments he was working on only to be distracted by a rap at his door.

"Come in!" he called while letting the quill fall to the mahogany top of his desk. He stood at the door opened. It was his father.

Lucius Malfoy entered and closed the door quickly behind. That feeling in Draco's chest heightened at the worried expression on his father's face.

"What's wrong?"

"There's been an explosion in Diagon Alley," Lucius said softly. "Your mother had a few appointments there this afternoon – she was taking Scorpius with her."

Draco's heart fluttered into his throat as his stomach turned into a block of ice. "Merlin, no," he whispered.

"Calm, son," Lucius said in a soothing tone. "Her appointments were on the south end of the alley, and my understanding is that the explosion was on the north end near Gringotts. I will head home, why don't you pop down to the Alley and see if they had finished at Twilfit and Tattings before the explosion. I will meet you at St. Mungo's in thirty minutes to let you know if they're home or for you to let me know if they are still at the shop. If they are at neither, the hospital is the next logical place to meet."

"Deal." Draco crossed the room quickly and grasped his cloak from the coat stand.

"Thirty minutes," Lucius reminded.

"Thirty minutes," Draco repeated.

* * *

Draco had almost missed the witch who ran Twilfit and Tattings as she had already locked her doors and was quickly dashing down the chaos-filled street to see to her own loved ones. He had barely caught her before she reached the Apparition point. She informed him that his mother and son had left the shop prior to the explosion. Before panic had a chance to hit, the witch quickly added that Narcissa had mentioned she was taking her grandson home via the Leaky Cauldron's Floo."

He thanked the woman profusely before turning on his heel and dashing closer to the explosion sight, only a few blocks from the Leaky. The hotel and bar were open, much to his relief, though it seemed that the Longbottom neè Abbott woman had allowed it to be turned into sort of a triage point for the wounded and a check in point for Aurors and medical staff.

Too anxious to maintain his typical indifferent public persona, Draco barked at Hannah, demanding to know if his mother had come through. He ignored the turning heads responding to his uncharacteristic outburst. Hannah's look was nothing but understanding. She was one of the few who had always been kind to him since the war.

"I don't know, Draco. It was super busy this morning with floo traffic," Hannah answered sympathetically. "If she left using the fireplace, I missed seeing her."

He thanked her even as his stomach tightened and he moved quickly through the crowd to stand in line at the floo. He reached St. Mungo's and stepped out of the fireplace only to be rooted to the spot as he watched an obviously shell shocked and devastated Hermione Granger slap Harry Potter in the chest with two tightly clenched fists.

His gaze was drawn to The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice and he was even more startled to see tears streaming down from behind broken spectacles.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he was saying. "He was just…gone."

And in that instant, Draco knew that Ronald Weasley had been killed in the Diagon Alley explosion. His heart leapt and pain rose in his throat for the woman now being tightly embraced by both Potters.

The edges of his vision seemed to darken, and it was almost as he could feel her grief inside himself. All he could see was the trio that was just slightly wrong. Black hair, chestnut hair, and red hair…but the red hair was too long, the figure too petite. A Weasley, but the wrong Weasley.

He couldn't seem to help himself when his brain jumped to all the things Hermione Granger had been through in her life. Tormented by Slytherins at school, harassed by Skeeter, hunted for her blood status, tortured on his drawing room floor…he swallowed hard at that thought…cut up by his insane aunt. If anyone had deserved a peaceful, happiness-filled life from there on out, it was Hermione Granger. _But for some reason, bad shit keeps happening to her…_

He was shaken from his own thoughts and pinpoint visage of the Potters trying to comfort the witch when his father took his arm. He turned his head to meet the older man's stare.

"Mum is fine," he knew before his father even said a word. "She and Score are at home?"

"Yes. Let's go," Lucius replied and turned to leave right back through where he had come.

Draco grabbed a handful of floo powdered and glanced over his shoulder one last time while his interrupted thought finished silently.

_…__and for some reason, I always care._

* * *

**_*"Here Comes Good-bye" written by Chris Sligh and Clint Lagerberg. Performed by Rascal Flatts from the album Unstoppable. Released January 2009._**


	4. Big Girls Don't Cry

**BETAs:** RaynePhoenix2 & sab81790

* * *

**Chapter Four**  
**Big Girls Don't Cry**

* * *

**Six Day After Ron's Death**

* * *

**_"But it's time for me to go home. It's getting late, dark outside. I need to be with myself and center, clarity, peace, serenity." _***

* * *

**May 8****th****, 2012**

Draco stood at the very back of the huge crowd that had turned up to witness the burial one third of the Golden Trio. He wasn't sure why he was here, all he knew was that he had been grieving with the rest of the country upon the announcement of Ronald Bilius Weasley's death and felt pulled to attend. Perhaps it was because he'd had many teenaged memories with the man – or maybe it was because he knew what Hermione Granger was going through and wanted to do anything he could do to help, however small. Logically, he knew it made no sense that he was as affected as he was. But the pull to be there was too strong to resist.

His parents had seemed surprised when he had announced he would be attending the service this morning, but neither objected. His mother had offered to take Scorpius for the day and his father had told him Malfoy Enterprises would be fine without him for the morning.

So, Draco donned black dress robes and departed. He had to admit that he was not even a little surprised with the turn out. There were hundreds of people present. He politely wound his way through the crowd, drawn to the family of red heads at the front near the casket.

He only half listened to the wizard officiating the service. As a few redheaded men gave short eulogies. Harry Potter moved to the podium to speak, but was too overcome with grief to deliver his speech and his wife lead him back to his seat. Draco only half listened, because he never took his eyes off the widow. Her face was a mask of grief, but her eyes were dry. She held a small boy with thick, curly red hair in her lap; the child had his fists clenched tightly around a blue silk blanket with a teddy bear head sewn to the top. Next to Hermione, a slightly older girl leaned against her side, sobbing into her mother's shoulder.

Draco had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat, those poor kids. They must be so confused. His eyes moved back to study Granger's face and decided then and there that she was incredible, the way she was holding herself together to be strong for her children was extremely admirable. Well, she was a Gryffindor, after all.

When the family rose to see the coffin lowered into the ground, he turned to make his way out of the cemetery. He had seen enough.

* * *

*Hermione watched the mahogany casket start to lower into the black Earth, her heart begging for it to stop. Her legs trembled and were barely supporting her. She kept expecting to wake from this nightmare. Praying that she would turn around to see Ron come striding through the crowd, asking everyone why they were so upset.

Her six-year-old daughter was next to her, arms wrapped around her middle with her face buried in her hip. The poor thing had barely stopped crying for the last six days. She just kept asking her mum why daddy wasn't coming home for dinner at night. Hermione had tried to help her understand, but Rose was protecting herself by pretending to not comprehend. She couldn't blame the child – she was trying to do the same thing. Molly was to the other side of Rose, holding an emotionally exhausted Hugo in her arms. Harry was on her right, a possessive, comforting arm around her shoulders trying to give her reassurance. It wasn't working – her life was ending.

Part of her wished she was the one being lowered into the ground. She didn't know how she was going to survive without the man her world centered around. It hadn't even been a week and the missing of him was suffocating.

The funeral attendance was huge. There were hundreds of people present. She supposed it was because of their celebrity status. She was trying to be grateful for the outpour of support, but in reality, she just wanted them all to go away. There were very few people she wanted in her life right now.

Hermione robotically completed her duties as widow throughout the rest of the day, often turning that word over in her mind. _I'm a widow at thirty-two. Oh, Ron. Gods, I miss you._ The last week had been painful, unendurable, unimaginable. She was surrounded by people at all times when she just needed to be alone. Alone with her thoughts, alone with her fears, alone with her worries. She needed to cry…but didn't want to break down in front of her children. And she needed to think, but she couldn't with the constant barrage of people.

She knew they meant well; she understood that everyone just wanted to make sure she and the kids were doing okay. She loved them for it, more than they could ever know. If she didn't get a few moments to herself soon, though, she would have a nervous breakdown that she might not come back from.

After what seemed like years, the last of the mourners left the banquet hall of the funeral home and Hermione was finally left with just her family. The Weasley's and Potter's milled around talking, crying, laughing, reminiscing, and caring for each another the only way they knew how – with tons food and love. Hermione couldn't eat, hadn't been able to eat for days. She sat in an overstuffed chair with a sleeping Hugo on her lap. Staring at nothing, she tried to focus on doing everything she could to hold it together. Just a little longer.

Harry and Ginny had agreed to take the children tonight so she could go home and get some peace. They knew her too well. Knew she would never be able to move forward in the grieving process if she didn't get this time. Even though it worried them, they were willing to help. She had told the other Weasley's that she would be staying with the Potter's to placate them.

"Are you ready, 'Mione?" Harry said softly as he approached her with her daughter. Rose's fingers were laced through Harry's and she leaned into his side, it brought a sad smile to her lips. It was how she liked to hold her Daddy's hand, too. _She'll never get to again. _

That thought made Hermione give a little whimper in the back of her throat and she tried to force her face not to crumple and to keep the tears at bay. "I am," she rasped out, her voice weak with unshed tears. "Come give me some love, Rosie." She beckoned the girl forward and her daughter obliged, wrapping her slender, gangly arms around her mother's neck and pressing her face into her shoulder as Harry scooped Hugo out of her lap and into his arms. Ginny was waiting at the fireplace with James, Albus, and Lily, watching them with red-rimmed eyes.

"I love you, baby girl," she murmured. "I'll see you in the morning, yeah?"

"Okay, mum," Rose whispered, pulling back to plant a kiss on Hermione's cheek.

She let go of her mum and waved at her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins as Harry and her brother joined Ginny and their children at the floo. Hermione watched as they disappeared in three groups; James going first, Ginny with their younger two, and Harry with her children.

"Are you leaving, az well, 'ermione?" Fleur questioned as she slowly approached the rest of the family.

"I'm going to follow them in a moment," Hermione agreed. "I'm so…tired." Fleur's face was soft and full of love. Bill came up behind her and clasped her shoulders, pulling her into a backward hug and dropping a kiss on her head. Bill was built much like Ron, and his gesture was something Ron had done often. It made her throat close. She struggled for a moment, eyes squeezing shut tight as her hands came up to wrap around Bill's wrists in thanks. When she opened them again, Fleur was looking away, tears trickling down her face. The women embraced and Hermione continued to make her rounds to say her goodbyes.

At last, she was flooing home only to find the house eerily quiet. She made her way up the stairs to the moderately sized master bedroom suite at the far end of the hall. She stripped until she was in her skivvies and pulled Ron's cotton robe from the hook behind the door. Wrapping herself in his scent, she crawled into his side of the bed and buried her face in his pillow to cry. Finally, she was able to let the flood gates open and not worry about a child coming in to find their mother in a puddle of despair on the floor. She fell asleep with wet cheeks and the smell of her husband all around her.


	5. When You're Gone

**BETAs:** RaynePhoenix2 & sab81790

* * *

**Chapter Five  
When You're Gone**

* * *

**_Four Years AFTER Astoria's Death  
Two and a Half Year PRIOR to Ron's Death_**

* * *

**"****When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you. When you're gone the face I came to know is missing, too. When you're gone the words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it okay…I miss you."** *

* * *

**January 2010**

"Draco…" Narcissa Malfoy trailed off, looking to her husband for help. Lucius raised one pale eyebrow and gave a small shrug. _Blasted man is no help whatsoever, _she thought affectionately. "Honey, it's been almost four years. Don't you think it's time to…to move on a little?"

Draco raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of his father as he pulled a deep mouthful of wine from his goblet with his hard mouth. He took his time swallowing before gently setting the glass down and answering his mother. "I think, Mother, that I'll move on when the time is right. Don't you agree, Father?"

Lucius Malfoy, ever self-preserving, raised both hands in surrender. "This is, as they say, your mother's party. Don't be too hard on her, son. She just wants to see you happy."

The younger Malfoy closed his eyes in order to gain a brief respite from the conversation that they'd had one too many times over the past couple years. "I'm just not…ready, Mother, please. Scorpius takes up plenty of my time. Then of course there is Malfoy Enterprises and learning to run the manor. I don't have time to date."

"But there's this lovely girl, Chrysanthemum – she goes by Chrissy. She's a cousin to the Selwyn's and I think you would adore her, Draco!" Narcissa protested. "She's positively stunning."

"I will not marry for duty again, Mother." His words were clipped

Narcissa harrumphed, pouting. "You loved Astoria."

"I grew to love Astoria, and we both know how lucky I was. You two know how lucky you are." Draco looked pointedly at his parents. "When – _if_ – I marry again, it will be for love. Love for me and for Scorpius. I will not let the strictness of tradition guide my heart if I marry a second time."

His parent's wary expressions were somewhat satisfying. Maybe he could finally put them off for a while. The constant insistence he meet and marry someone new helped no one. Lucius cleared his throat. "What, exactly, are you trying to tell us, Draco?"

"Have you met someone?" Narcissa tilted her head and a small, hopeful smile crossed her face. At this point, he could bring home a full-blown Muggle, as long as the girl made him smile.

"No, Mother, please don't get the wrong idea." An ache was starting to form behind his eyes and he rubbed his forehead with long, elegant fingers in attempts to smooth it away. "I'm trying to tell you that I will not be forced into a second arranged marriage with a pureblood witch. I will meet a woman the modern way. We will date and fall in love and then – _only then_ – will I propose marriage. I'm trying to tell you that if she happens to be half-blood or Muggleborn, I will not be swayed by your prejudices. Those beliefs are no longer mine; they haven't been for a long time."

Narcissa looked horrified at his presumptions. Her previous opinions on blood status had diminished greatly since the end of the war, but the angry color rising in her husband's face told her Lucius was still clinging to the old ways for dear life. This was not going as she had planned. "You don't know what you're saying!" Narcissa said quickly, reaching a hand out to cover her husband's to calm him, she shot him a warning look and he gripped her fingers with his own. His face remained colored, but his eyes agreed with her that they could discuss this matter later.

"I do, Mother. I do know what I am saying." He heaved a deep sigh and took another large mouthful of the delicious red vintage. "Please understand, I'm not going to purposely go looking for a half-blood or Muggleborn witch. I don't think I've ever been a spiteful son, but I will not be put off by it. We lost the war, just in case you don't remember. For fuck's sake, Father, the Dark Lord was only a half-blood!"

Lucius started to sputter, but Draco broke him off. "Father, you have your Pureblood heir with me, and I have mine with Scorpius. Any more children I may or may not have – well it just doesn't matter to me. All that matters to me is to eventually find someone I can love. Someone who will open their heart willingly to the boy. Be happy with that, and please –" here he looked at his mother again, eyes alight with frustration undercut with sadness, "– please stop trying to push me into a relationship I'm not ready for. It will only end in more sadness."

He didn't wait for them to answer. Tossing his napkin down on his plate, he shoved his chair back and stalked out of the dining room to their halfhearted protests that he rejoin them. It took every ounce of determination not to flee like a toddler having a tantrum. He was so bloody sick of having this talk with them, which is why he derailed it with the half-blood and Muggleborn comment. He wasn't ready to date. He didn't want to marry again any time soon. He would be damned if he was talked into courting and marrying another Pureblood witch – unless he was interested. Which, at this point, he was not.

Draco had tried, albeit sparingly. He had attempted to date, but nothing ever felt right. He had even had a couple of one-night stands; mostly to sate sexual needs, but also trying to just feel something for a woman. Any woman. Perhaps that was the problem, though. Something was making him wait. Something was making him not interested. It didn't seem to matter if he found a witch attractive or not, there was just no connection. Not like he'd had with Astoria. He decided not long after she died that he would wait for that feeling again before he became serious about a witch. It had taken time to grow between them, and they had known how lucky they were considering their arranged marriage. He vowed to her memory he wouldn't just replace her with a pretty face and a marriage contract. That if or when he married again and gave Scorpius a new mother – it would be because the woman loved them both.

He slammed the front door of the Manor behind him in his frustrated rage and then, before he even knew what he was doing, he was standing in front of the willow where his wife had been entombed almost four years ago. It was freezing, but he had left his cloak inside, barely even realizing where he had intended to go.

Staring at the white marble stone that marked Astoria's grave, Draco shoved his hands deeply into his pockets. He bowed his head, hair whipping in the freezing January wind. "How has it been four years, Tori?" he whispered, digging the toe of his shoe into the thin layer of powdery snow beneath his feet. "It feels like yesterday." He sighed and glanced towards the manor where a few windows were lit with a warm glow. It made him realize just how cold he was.

Draco turned back to the headstone. "I miss you. So much." He stood there a long time, eyes burning with unshed tears. He stared at nothing until the winter wind moved him into action. Stepping forward, he dropped a kiss on top of the stone before turning to leave.

* * *

**_Eight Months Later_**

* * *

**September 2010**  
"I will not stand for this anymore, darling." Iris Greengrass clinked her teacup down on its saucer and glared at her son-in-law, who was watching Scorpius play with a few figurines of dragons on the floor in the Greengrass's day room. "Astoria would never want you to live this way. You need a woman in your life. That little boy needs a mother."

Draco gave an exasperated snort. "You and I bloody well know that Astoria would love that I was pining for her, Iris. Seriously."

The regal woman couldn't help but give a chuckle. "Fine. You may be right, but after a time I think it would have saddened her. Dear boy, it's been long enough. Have you even been on a date in the last four and a half years? Daphne tells me that there are many young women interested in you."

Draco rolled his eyes. He had no interest in the galleon hungry witches who pursued him. He wanted the impossible. Someone who would genuinely love him for himself and not for what he could provide. He would probably have to leave the UK to find her, though. Somewhere the label 'prior Death Eater' held no meaning. Most importantly, this unachievable woman would have to love Scorpius and would need to want to be a mother to him. Realizing he hadn't answered his mother-in-law he shrugged.

"Of course, I have." He made a face. "Not any good ones, though." A sigh escaped him. "I just…nothing's right. Every time I go out with someone, I just compare them to her. No one meets expectations."

"Hmm," the older witch mused. "Please don't think I'm being presumptuous, but Draco…" She trailed off and took a deep breath, as if she was preparing for a killing blow. "I think you need help."

Draco gave his mother-in-law a blank stare. "What do you mean?"

"Help. You need to go somewhere, talk about what you're feeling."

"A shrink?"

"Oh, well. Perhaps." She gave a noncommittal lift of her shoulders, then turned to her small clutch bag. "A friend of mine lost her husband earlier this year. She's been attending a support group through St. Mungo's." Iris pulled a small lavender colored pamphlet out of her bag. "She said it's really helpful to be around other people who truly understand her loss." She handed the paper out to him.

Draco hesitantly reached out his hand and plucked the brochure from her fingers, glancing down at it.

"Spouse-loss Support Group." He raised his eyebrows, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Go once, Draco," Iris begged. It was undignified, but she couldn't watch her son-in-law continue down this dreary, lonely path. All the poor man did was work and care for his son. While he was an exceptional father, and Scorpius adored him, she knew he needed a woman in his life. Both of the young Malfoy men did. Woman changed everything. They made everything brighter and softer.

"I don't know, Iris…" He trailed off and thumbed open the pamphlet. He scanned the first paragraph, emotion closing his throat.

_The death of a spouse means losing your lover, best friend, confidante, and co-wrangler of children, household tasks, and life. In addition to the heartache of missing the person closest to you in the world, the isolation of losing a spouse can be devastating. Friends and family are nurturing and helpful in the first few weeks after death, but are not always available when you need support. Come join us and we will help you connect with others for advice and sympathy. Somewhere you can share your feelings anytime of the day or night. **_

He felt a warm body sit next to him and realized Iris had moved from her position across the way. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a sideways hug. "I miss her, too. Every day of my life. Losing a daughter is devastating in its own right. Losing a spouse, though, I think is much harder. Your other half was taken from you much too soon. The people who attend this group understand what you are going through. Please, Draco. Just give it a try."

Draco's eyes tingled with the threat of tears, which he was able to keep at bay. It had been a long time since he had cried last.

"You need to figure out how to work through the grief, love." She patted his hand. "It's been too long already. Life is passing you by. Please."

He nodded slowly. "I'll try it, Iris. I thank you for your concern." He did not meet her eyes as he folded the slip of paper and tucked it into his robe pocket.

"Good," the brunette witch said with a smile, patting his back.

"Thank you for the tea, Iris." He leaned over to hug the woman affectionately, pressing a kiss to her soft cheek. "Scorpius, come now, son. Time to go!"

He watched the small, scrawny, blond-haired boy gather his dragons before bringing them to his father. Draco shrunk them down and put them in his pocket while his son hugged his Grandmother.

"I love you, Grandmother," he said obligingly, and Draco smiled. A real, genuine smile. Scorpius was the only person in the world who could draw them out of him these days.

"C'mon, my little monster!" He scooped the boy up into his arms, Scorpius immediately snuggled into Draco's shoulder with a yawn. "You're a tired niffler, huh?"

"I'm not tired," the little boy whispered, eyes already drooping.

"Mm." Draco made a sound of agreement, even though he knew better, and suppressed a chuckled. "We'll see you next week, Iris. Take care!"

* * *

**_Approximately Two Years Later_**

* * *

**"****I wake up and teardrops they fall down like rain. I put on that old song we danced to and then I head off to my job, guess not much has changed. Punch the clock, head for home, check the phone, just in case, go to bed, dream of you…that's what I'm doing these days." ****

* * *

**June 2012**  
"Rose, please get down here!" Hermione called up the stairs. "Your cereal is going to be a mushy mess!"

"I'm not going!" came the over-emotional reply of one Rose Granger-Weasley. "You can't make me!"

Hermione felt her temper start to get the best of her and pushed it down with a firm metaphorical hand. Resigning herself, she started the trek upstairs to talk to her daughter.

"Sweetheart," she murmured, knocking lightly on Rose's door before letting herself into her room. "What's going…on. Oh, honey." She caught her breath and tried to push back the tears that threatened. Rose was dressed and ready to go, her hair done up in pigtails with a blue bow on the left. Her daughter was laying on her belly in the middle of her bed, staring at the picture of herself and Ron that Hermione had blown up and framed to stay on her dresser. The two were smiling and waving at the camera before Rose plopped a messy kiss on her father's cheek while he laughed. It had been done with the intention of helping her daughter grieve and to ensure she could always look at him whenever she needed too.

She moved to the edge of the bed. "Rosie, I know you miss Daddy," she murmured, reaching out a hand to stroke the girl's red head lovingly. "I know Daddy misses you, too." Chewing on her bottom lip, she struggled to hold back the waterworks. Six weeks and it just felt like it was getting worse instead of better. How in the world was she supposed to survive this? It was too bloody hard.

She snuggled up to Rose, laying on her tummy by the tiny six-year-old girl and tossing an arm around her petite form. "Dominique and Albus will miss you so much if you don't go to tutoring today. I know being with your cousins makes you feel better. Mummy feels better when I'm busy and doing my work, too."

Rose sniffled, one little pointer finger tracing the glass over Ron's half smile. "Does Daddy not love me anymore?" Hermione's heart shattered for what seemed like the millionth time in too short a while.

"Love bug, why would you ask such a thing? Your daddy loved you so, so much. You were his best girl."

"How come he left us, Mummy?" Her sweet little voice was so unsure.

"Oh, bug. C'mere." She pulled the girl into her arms and sat them up on the bed, pulling her into her lap and squeezing her tight. "You know how Teddy's mum and dad are gone, too? That they crossed over to the other side?"

She felt a little nod against her bosom and dropped a kiss on Rose's head. "Daddy went there, too, sweetheart. He didn't leave us because he wanted to, he left because he didn't have a choice."

"Because some bad people were mean and he got hurt really bad?" Rose said brokenly. Hermione closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. _Oh, Gods, Ron. Please help me through this._

"That's right, bug. You've got it right. If Daddy could have stayed, he would have. He loved us so much. So very much." Hermione ran her fingers up and down her daughter's back soothingly until the little girl stopped sniffling. Then, she reached over to the nightstand to pull a couple of tissues out of a box. "Let's wipe your nose, love."

After she had Rose cleaned up, fed, and sent through the floo to Shell Cottage, she went to wake Hugo. Her poor babies. They were so lost without their father. Hugo had taken to horrible night terrors, reporting cloaked and hooded men in dark robes murdering his daddy night and after night. Hermione, herself, was having terrible dreams filled with loss and loneliness. She longed for a visit from Ron in her dreams. She would give just about anything for him to take her in his arms one more time, kiss her lips, pull on her curls. The hole in her heart was so large she didn't know if she could ever fill it, but she tried.

Every day she made valiant efforts. Getting out of bed, showering, feeding and dressing her children, getting them to where they needed to be. She went to work and lost herself in her daily tasks. When she came home at the end of the day, she did school work with Rose, house work, made dinner, went shopping, paid the bills, maintained the yard, and the list went on. She had never truly realized how much Ron had done and felt terribly guilty for all the times she had nagged him.

All of a sudden, it was her job to cut the grass, bring in the post, clean the fireplace, pay the bills, take out the trash, and so much more. These were all things she had taken for granted. She had always known they were a good team; had always known he did his fair share of the work. Now, she knew it without a doubt. All his work was now hers…on top of the work she already had. Her hours disappeared if she blinked too often, and her brain never shut off. She went to bed every night with twenty things that hadn't gotten done. Knowing the only way they would be accomplished was if she added them to the list the next day.

She was, quite frankly, overwhelmed beyond reason and contemplating hiring help. Maybe someone to cook and clean? She even thought of applying for a house elf. One that she would pay, of course.

At least that part was okay. The loss of Ron's income had been made up with his death benefits. They would last her at least the next ten years. It was the only thing she didn't have to worry about. Not that it mattered, the financial security meant nothing without Ron. She'd trade away every penny to have him back.

She dropped Hugo at nursery and made her way to the lifts to start her workday. At 8:50 in the morning, she had already been up for five hours, with many, many more to go before she could sleep.

* * *

*** "When You're Gone" written by Avril Lavigne, Butch Walker, and Jesse Welch. Performed by Avril Lavigne on the album The Best Damn Thing. Released 19, June, 2007. **

**** "These Days" written by Jeffrey Steele, Steve Robson, and Danny Wells. Performed by Rascal Flatts on the album Melt. Released 24, June, 2002.**


	6. Days Feel Like Years

**BETAs:** RaynePheonix2 & sab81790

* * *

** Chapter Six  
Days Feel Like Years**

* * *

**_Six Years After Astoria Died  
Four Months After Ron Died_**

* * *

**"I always needed time on my own. I never thought that I'd need you there when I cry. And the days feel like years when I'm alone and the bed where you lie is made up on your side. Everything that I do reminds me of you. And the clothes you left they lie on the floor and they smell just like you.."***

* * *

**August 2012**

Hermione's wand vibrated on her dresser, the green number blinking through the dark. 3:45 … 3:45 … 3:45. She said the incantation to set it to snooze, but it didn't matter, she was awake. She wasn't sure if she had slept at all. She had successfully gotten Hugo back into his own room a few weeks ago, the nightmares had finally abated to only one or two a week. With her son where he belonged, her bed was just so very … empty. Rolling onto her hip, she spread her fingers over her husband's side of the mattress. It was made up, pillow sham still in place. She smoothed her palm over the bedding, tears sliding down her nose to drip off the upturned tip and onto her lips. She could taste their saltiness. Rolling the other way, she let her eyes fall to the pile of dirty laundry Ron had left right next to the hamper the day he had been taken from her. She hadn't had the heart to wash them. The shirt still smelled like him a little bit and she knew soon enough that, too, would be gone. Hugo had taken his smell from their bed. She had worn his robe so much that it smelled like hrself now, and not him.

Every day she lost him a little more. Molly and Ginny had insisted on cleaning out his side of the closet, his dresser, his medicine cabinet, and the coat closet. They donated his clothing and shoes, robes, and cloaks. She had flown into a rage of grief and yelled and screamed at them when they had tried to take the pile of dirty wash from the floor and to pack away his robe. They had let her have her way, encasing her in their loving arms until her hysterical tears had calmed.

They had helped her pack away his keepsakes and the journal he had kept from their time on the run in seventh year and the delluminator Dumbledore had bequeathed him. Those items were stored in impenetrable charmed boxes in the attic. She had insisted on saving his things for their children to go through when they were older. Something so they could get to know him better. She had given his broom to Harry. His wedding ring was boxed and tucked into her jewelry armoire, waiting for the day his son married. Hermione's wedding set stayed where it belonged, on her ring finger. Right now, she didn't think she'd ever take them off. She would love him forever.

Pretty soon, all that would be left would be photographs and memories. She wasn't sure it would be enough. Her wand buzzed again and she muttered the incantation to reset it for the next day as she pulled herself out of bed and stumbled into the shower. She let the hot water sooth away her fatigue before starting her morning chores. By seven in the morning, she had chewed through two pieces of toast, downed half a pot of coffee, and had bills and a grocery list completed. They were ready for her to take care of when she was done with work at the end of the day.

She got up from the table to stretch before she began making breakfast and was startled when she heard a loud _crack_ from outside, someone was in their yard at the apparition point. Picking up her wand, she held it loose and ready – just in case – before making her way to the back door. Peering out the curtained window, she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was Harry and Ginny.

She pulled open the door with a small smile. "Hello, you two. I wasn't expecting you!"

"We thought we'd surprise you with breakfast!" Harry held up a bag of fast food and Hermione laughed. Ginny had become obsessed with the sausage muffins during her pregnancy with Lily and it had never gone away.

"The kids will love it, and I won't have a mountain of breakfast dishes to do!" She chuckled again and opened the door all the way to let them pass. "Where are your kids?"

"Dropped them at mum's, she wanted to feed them a big breakfast before tutoring and dad's going to take Lily to nursery," Ginny answered with a flip of her hand.

Harry and Ginny set the table while she went and woke the kids. Helping with their teeth and hair before she sent them downstairs for their surprise. She grinned to herself when she heard the excited squeals of greeting while she flipped her wand to make the beds and straighten toys.

She made her way to join them a few minutes later, but paused on the steps as she caught the low voices of her sister-in-law and best friend. "She looks like a walking inferi," Ginny was mumbling. "How much longer can they go on like this?"

"I think she's doing fine, Gin. We need to give her some time. They were together for fifteen years! Friends for longer!"

"She walks around like she's under the Imperius Curse. She's just existing, Harry. It's not healthy," she protested quietly. Hermione had to strain to hear them. What she wouldn't give for some extendable ears right about now.

"What do you suggest we do?" Harry sounded exasperated.

"Set her up on a date," Ginny replied firmly.

"That's ridiculous. Ron has only been gone for three and half month, Gin. She's not ready to date."

"She needs something for herself, Harry!"

"She does, but dating isn't it. Not yet, anyway. If it were me and you were gone, I don't think I'd be doing half as well as she is."

"That's because you're a man. I would tell you to date, too, if I could."

Hermione listened to their hushed tones, leaning up against the wall at the bottom of the steps. She leaned her head back and tried not to groan. If Ginny was getting a wand up her arse about something, she would be forced into it no matter how uninterested she was.

She tiptoed back up the stairs and trotted down loudly. When she entered the kitchen, they both looked up at her from opposite sides of the room and grinned.

"Hungry?"

"I'm not, thanks anyway." Ginny frowned and Harry looked her up and down. It made her defensive. "I've been up for a while. I've already had some toast."

"You've lost weight, Hermione."

"I realize that, but I'm fine. Things will even out, I'm sure."

"You look tired. Can we take the kids this weekend? You could catch up on some rest." Harry's offer was polite, but she had no desire to spend an entire weekend alone. That would be bloody awful.

"No, we'll be okay. I was planning to take them to the menagerie this weekend. Do you and the kids want to join us?"

Her friends glanced at each other and then back to her. "We could do that." Ginny answered. "I still think you need a day. Let me book you at the spa?"

"No. Thank you, Gin. You know I don't care for all that simpering, pampering stuff."

Silence.

"Hermione…" It was Harry who started this time.

"Please don't, Harry." Hermione crossed the room and started fumbling with her Muggle coffee pot. Nothing tasted better than a cup made just the way her mum use to.

"We're just worried for you."

"Damnit!" In a very uncharacteristic outburst, Hermione swore, making both children gape at her with wide eyes. "Up to your rooms, now! Please get yourselves dressed. Clothes are on your beds," she exclaimed at them. "Hurry!" She watched them scuttle out of the room and heard them thundering up the stairs.

"You have got to stop coddling me!" She turned on her friends. "You have to stop! I will never be strong enough to move on if you keep tip-toeing around me. I'll never get it all done for myself if you're always here helping me. I can do this just fine, and I'll thank you both to remember that!"

"Hermione!" Ginny scolded, eyes flashing. "Sometimes I think you forget that _we all _lost him! I lost a brother. Harry lost his best friend! My parents lost _another child_. We all just want to help you."

"You have no idea what I'm going through." Hermione's voice was cold, devoid of all emotion. If she let her anger take hold, she'd lose all sense of control. "Yes, you lost him, too. It's not the same, though, Ginny." Her anger grew as the redhead threw her a scandalized look. "It's _not_. I lost my _husband! The father of my children!_ It's not in your face every single day. You miss him, yes, but it comes and goes, doesn't it? It's not engrained into everything you do. Am I right?

"You don't wake up to half your bed empty. You're not soothing a four-year-old in the middle of the night after he has nightmares that his daddy was murdered. You're not trying to explain to your six-year-old that daddy can't come back – but _of course he still loves you!_

"You don't go through the motions every single day hoping…just _hoping_ that they'll become familiar again. That you'll feel safe again. That it won't make your breath hitch with loss when you make only your side of the bed or wash only one coffee cup.

"You don't wake up in the middle of the night with a start, hoping it was just some God-awful dream. You're not just _existing._ You don't…you don't…" She was gasping for breath as the dam broke and angry, hurt tears flooded her face.

"You don't know what it's like to think no one is ever going to touch you again. That no one will ever make your body feel alive again. Make you explode with desire and passion that only a lover can bring. I feel dead, my body feels dormant. No one but my children has done more than brush my arm in over a month. Do you know what I miss the most? Hugging him. Having him hug me. I miss feeling safe in his arms! So much!

"You have _no clue_ what it's like to watch your best friend, lover, and center of your u-universe be put into the gr-ground and wish with all your being you could go with him. You have no idea how hopeless it feels to know that if you fall apart, you'll drag two defenseless, broken ch-children down with you." She was positively ugly crying at this point. "I'm so tired of trying to be perfect."

Ginny had tears streaming down her face and was hugging herself tightly, leaning up against the counter. Harry had gone deathly silent and sat at the table with his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with his grief.

She watched the scene before her, trying to stem her own tears. They truly didn't understand. They cared about her; they were trying to be here for her. They missed Ron, and they loved him. They were worried, and she loved them so much for it, but they just did not get it.

"It's been three and a half months. I thought it was supposed to get easier." She was blubbering through her sentences at this point. After a about a minute of only the sound of her tears, she had calmed somewhat.

"Guys…" she whispered. They both looked at her. Tearful and pleading faces were begging to know what they could do to help. "It's not getting better. Why isn't it getting any better?" They were across the room in a moment, Harry sending the chair crashing to the floor in his haste. They pulled her to them, crushing her. She let them hold her while she blew apart at the seams.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

* * *

"Hey, Gregory." Draco smiled at the elderly man as he handed him a cup of black coffee. "How are you doing tonight?"

"Hey, kiddo." Gregory's voice was rough with age and deep like a bassoon. "I'm hanging in there. How are things with you? Is that witch you were dating still in the picture?"

Draco made a face. Six and a half years since Astoria had passed away and he had only had two semi-serious girlfriends. One had ended disastrously because of jealousy for his dead wife, the other after a five year old Scorpius had reported with tearful eyes that the woman in question had told him she never wanted children and he would shut up or she'd talk his daddy into sending him away.

He wasn't sure he was ever going to get the hang of dating again. "No, Greg. She wasn't the right one."

"Ah, that's too bad, kid. Young, handsome lad like you deserves a good witch to warm his bed and care for him." He gave a crude wink, which made Draco laugh and shake his head with affection as the older man found a seat amongst the circle of chairs. Looking back out the front window of the Diagon Alley café, Draco could see more regulars coming. Mostly everyone was here, but it was still a bit early. He'd give it a few minutes before getting the session going. They had a few new people join them over the last four months – two of them having lost their spouses in the explosion that had happened on May second.

Iris had convinced him to attend this group almost two years ago, and it had changed his existence. So much so, that after eighteen months of attending, he was asked to lead the group. The former leader, a woman named Pricilla Storm, had remarried and was well on her way to a new, happy life. She had felt the need to move on from her volunteer position with St. Mungo's. Draco would be forever grateful to the woman; she had really helped him come to terms with his grief.

He was checking the coffee supplies when a strange sense of trepidation came over him. A slight sense of unease. Almost like he felt when he came to his first meeting. At the same time, he had an overwhelming feeling that there was something coming. No…some_one_ coming. He looked up in surprise as a very small figure entered the room. At first, he thought it was a child, but took a step back in shock when she turned. He'd never forget that face for as long as he lived.

Instantly his hands grew clammy as he took her in. She had aged well. Even if she had been the bane of his existence once upon a time, he wasn't blind. Hermione Granger had grown into a stunning woman. Maybe not beautiful in the pureblood sense of the word, but an Earthy, surreal beauty that was very unique and understated. She was small, barely over five feet tall, and petite. If she weighed more than seven and a half stone he'd be surprised.

It did look like she had probably recently lost a bit of weight, but that was only natural in light of what he knew she had been through the last few months. He had lost more than a stone, himself, after Astoria had died. Extreme grief can definitely kill an appetite.

He scolded himself._ Focus Draco. Her looks don't matter right now. She's not going to be excited to see you. If she doesn't turn tail and run like she's being chased by a flock of wild Hippogriffs when she spots you, it will be a miracle. Do your job and be welcoming. _

His gaze returned to the brunette and it alarmed him to realize she had seen him. The expression on her face mirrored his own surprised feelings. He watched as she reached up to pull at a curl nervously. That bushy mass of riotous spirals had been one of the many things he used to hurt her during his Hogwarts career. If he were being honest with himself, it was still a mess. Though, for some reason, it seemed much more appealing as an adult than it had been as an adolescent. The piles of ringlets spilled over her shoulders and down her back, much longer than it had been before.

Her warm, brown with amber eyes roamed the room hesitantly, stopping on a few faces she likely recognized from the papers of their spouse's deaths in link to the explosion, then she returned to his steel-grey orbs. Her teeth were out, worrying her full, pouty bottom lip in a gesture he recognized as a stress reliever. It came back to him in a tidal wave of memories. She had done that more times than he could count while at school. To the point where her pouty bottom lip would be bloody during exam time.

She was walking up to him. "Malfoy?" It was said hesitantly, almost like she wasn't sure it was really him. He wanted to laugh.

"Hey, Granger," Draco said instead, using a kind tone. He was very well aware of her recent loss; he remembered how he'd felt when the grief was so fresh. He would not be cruel, he would not be snarky – he was thirty-one years old. An adult. In truth, he was embarrassed by the things he had said and done to her in his youth. She didn't deserve most of it. His thoughts returning to the present, he remembered seeing her at St. Mungo's the day of the explosion. He remembered the odd onset of concern he had felt for her. She was so strong, though. The image of her stoic presence at her husband's funeral still resonated with him. He hadn't had to interact with her on those occasions, though.

As it were, she didn't look so stoic right now. He could sense her unease. He struggled for something to say. It normally came so easy to him at these meetings. He felt a tad awkward and feared his engrained childhood snarkiness towards her would rear its ugly head.

Draco's thoughts turned back to her recent loss. Gods, he couldn't imagine being with someone as long as she had been with Weasley and losing them the way she had. How long had they been friends before they got married? Nine years? Ten? They were fourteen years past the end of the war, add another seven…twenty-one years she'd known that poor bastard. They'd been married at least half that, probably longer. All of a sudden, his own, personal grief was put into a much smaller bubble. He was used to knowing people who had lost their spouses after fifteen, twenty, even more than fifty years because of this group. Granger's loss just seemed different, though. Maybe because he had grown up with them. Granger without Weasley just seemed…wrong.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" He gestured to the cart. "Most people are so wiped by this time of the evening they find the pick me up refreshing."

She seemed to come back to herself and the surprised look left her eyes as her forehead crinkled into the familiar look of distrust she used to bestow on him. She dropped surprised eyes to the tray and then flicked them back up to meet his. "What's the catch?"

His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Catch?"

"Yeah, the catch. You're going to dump it on me?" A frown tugged the corners of her mouth and she crossed her arms suspiciously.

Draco shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. He had been kind, right? It hadn't come out all condescending or holy-than-thou, had it? _Damnit_.

He raised his hands as if to show he was apologetic. "No catch, Granger!" he insisted. "Just a cup of coffee." His expression was innocent, and he watched Hermione's eyes narrow, sizing him up. Then her face smoothed and she had the grace to look abashed. She gave a little sigh and let her arms drop to her sides.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "That wasn't fair. I'm nervous, my emotions are high. I guess old habits do die hard. I'd love some coffee."

He gave a light chuckle, reaching one hand up to scratch behind his head before busying himself with making her a cup. "Forgiven. No worries. I've grown up a bit, though. Haven't purposely spilled anything on someone in years." Draco tossed her a smile as he poured her a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?"

"Cream and one sugar, please," her eyes widened slightly and he mentally snorted as she watched him prepare her cup. A Malfoy in a service roll probably seemed very odd to her. He handed her the paper mug, starting slightly when their fingers brushed. His hand reflexively pulled away quickly when there was a warm and tingly sensation where his skin touched hers. It seemed to creep into his whole being and he fought his discomfiture. He studied her carefully, puzzled by his own reaction even more when she switched the cup to her other hand and seemingly rubbed her fingers subconsciously on her jeans.

He cleared his throat and poured himself a cup, bewildered by what had just transpired. _What to say…what to say…_ "You do know where you are, right, Granger?" he asked softly. "You do mean to be here?" _Stupid question. _He watched her face go from contemplation, to guarded as her eyes shuttered.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Of course, I know where I am!" she hissed. Her tone gave warning of her anger, laced with just a touch of desperation, devastation, and brilliant determination. "My family asked me to give it a try. I don't know what good it will do, but I'm trying not to disappoint. Harry and Ginny are worried about me. No one under…understands…" She took a deep breath as her voice hitched. Setting down his drink, Draco reached out and cupped his hands around hers as they held her cup of coffee, recognizing the panic attack of grief that was threatening to overwhelm her. He felt that same tingling warmth from before, only stronger. If it weren't for the tears standing in her eyes, it would be all he could have thought about. Her emotional needs were more important, though.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I mean it!" he insisted when she glared at him and tried to pull away. Was it just him or did it get twenty degrees warmer in here? _What the fuck is the matter with you? _He was totally bewildered by his physical response to her nearness._ Weasley is barely cold in the ground._

Ignoring the rush of heat that was creeping up his arms, Draco held her hands firmly in his. "_I_ understand, Granger. _I_ do. So do all these people in here. Everyone in this room has lost the witch or wizard they were married to. We _all_ struggle with our friends and family not truly understanding what we're going through. It's why we're here." This seemed to calm her instantly as her gaze flicked from his, to the group of fifteen or so chatting amiably while they waited for Draco to start the meeting.

"Yeah?" The tightness in her body seemed to seep out of her; as though his words had dragged the fear and anxiety right out of her muscles.

As her body relaxed in front of him, an image of alabaster colored hands sinking into the depths of her wild mane in order to cradler and tilt her head back flashed in his mind's eye and he shook his head distractedly. _What was that?_

"Yeah." He agreed, patting her hand and reluctantly letting her go. "You've come to the right place, little witch. C'mon, let's find you a seat." Draco placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and guided her to mingle with the rest of the group.

* * *

**An Hour and a Half Later at The Wayward Broom**

* * *

Draco kept his eye on the entrance as he awaited his friend's arrival. The Muggle whisky the waitress had recommended was smooth and flavorful, but it had yet to lessen his agitation.

A flush of relief came over him when a very disheveled Theo Nott made his way to their usual back corner table.

The lanky brunette slid into the seat across the booth from Draco as he griped, "This better be important, Malfoy. Pansy and I had just finished dinner and were opening our second bottle of red when you floo messaged." He cocked his right brow and scolded, "You know what that means."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're such a tosser, Nott. If any other man made that statement, I would realize I had cock blocked him. But not you. No. Only you would get pissy because I interrupted your game of Wizard Skittles."

Theo gestured to the waitress to bring a round of what Draco was drinking. He shot his best friend a scolding look. "Now, that's not fair. You know it's not _just _a game of Skittles. I'm up, Draco. By one game! If I win tonight, I win the tournament. If I don't make it back in thirty minutes, I forfeit, and she wins the round. You realize what that means, don't you?"

Draco tried to suppress his amusement. This is why he loved Theo. "It's your own fault for making such a ridiculous bet with her in the first place. I mean," he shook his head in disbelief, "what normal couple decides the winner of a tournament of _Wizard Skittles_ gets to name their next child?"

Theo looked Draco in the eyes, a retort on the tip of his tongue. But who was he kidding? His shoulders fell. "You're right. I'm certifiable."

"No, Pansy has your number and knows how to get her way. All the while making you think you have a fair shot. Let's face it. You were never going to win this tournament."

"Fuck, you're probably right. But she's drinking tonight! And I'm up by a game!"

Draco smirked. "She _let_ you get ahead, Theo. Think about it. It would be very Gryffindor-ish if she just raced ahead and cleaned the floor with you. She had to make it look like a competition. There is a lot riding on this. She can't have you come back later and say it was an unfair tournament."

Theo took a large swallow of the drink the waitress placed in front of him before meeting his friend's stare. A heavy exhale was followed by a mumbled, "Damn! You're right, aren't you?" He shook his head. "Why didn't I see it?"

Draco laughed lightly. "I have no idea. Love is blind? I mean, you've beaten her less than five times in _all_ the years you've known her."

Theo wagged his finger. "That's not true. I won three games last month. Before we made the bet." The brunette's blue eyes glazed over as his jaw fell in quiet recognition of his error. "She played me. She planned this!"

Draco shrugged noncommittally as he sipped his drink, thankful for the reprieve from his own worries. "Whose idea was it for the tournament?"

Theo threw his head back as he answered resignedly. "Mine."

"No, it was hers. She just made you think it was yours." He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Honestly. And you call yourself a Slytherin."

A resolved look of determination came over Theo as he looked at his wristwatch. "I have twenty minutes to get back and find a way to win. Otherwise your Godson is going to be named Herbert. What's up. Why am I here?"

Draco sipped his glass. "Granger. Hermione Granger."

Theo gave his friend a sideways look. "Come again?"

"Granger, well it's Granger-_Weasley_ now. Anyhow, she showed up at the group meeting tonight."

Theo considered for a minute before comprehension dawned. His expression turned serious. "That's right. Weasley. Diagon Alley." He watched Draco for a minute. "And this is troublesome to you…why?"

"Theo, I can't explain it. She's in my head. Did I tell you I was at St. Mungo's the day of the explosion?"

"Yeah, to look for Narcissa."

Draco nodded lightly, his eyes getting a far-away look. "I saw her. When she found out he was killed, I mean. I saw Potter and Weaslette tell her that he was dead."

Theo didn't say anything as he contemplated his friend and what was going on.

"She was beyond distraught. I mean, completely understandable, you know?" He let out a breath as he looked around to make sure they weren't overheard. His words were just above a whisper.

"Okay, here's the thing, and I can't explain it," he huffed in irritation before finishing, "but it really bothered me that she was upset. _I_ became upset. It was like my grief for Tory was stirring up inside of me. Only I wasn't thinking about Astoria. I was thinking about Granger. I couldn't get her out of my head after that. I even went to Weasley's funeral. I kept my distance. No one saw me. But I went. She was a pillar of strength at the service. One kid on her lap and the other with Molly. I knew she felt her world had ended. It was like I could feel her anguish. Her anger. And she sat there quietly. She didn't even shed a tear."

Theo scratched his head as he struggled for what to say.

"Why? Why would I go? Why did I feel that compulsion? Why did it bother me that she was hurting? It's Hermione 'pain-in-the-ass, know-it-all' Granger!"

Before Theo could respond, Draco continued, "Then, out of the blue, she showed up tonight. Only she wasn't the strong witch from the funeral. She was me. She was me the first time I went to a meeting. On edge, nervous, distrustful. Afraid. Resigned that it wouldn't help. Alone in a room full of people."

Theo took a deep breath. "Draco, maybe it's just that you relate to her. I mean, you both lost your spouses suddenly. Maybe seeing her grief is bringing your own back to the forefront of your psyche and what you're interpreting as despair and concern for her, is really just a reflection of your own pain."

Draco's jaw fell. "Wow, Theo. I didn't know you had that in you. Maybe. Maybe you're on to something." He thought for a moment. "I don't know, though. I've been running the group for two years. There have been many attendees who had similar experiences to mine. And I have never been affected by them the way that I'm moved by her."

Theo sighed. "Okay, I hesitate to say this because it will likely just make you mad and storm out of here like an angry hippogriff, and I'll be stuck with a son named Wilbur for nothing, but you've always had this… wait." He scratched his jaw. "Let me rephrase. You've always been a bit _attuned_ to Granger. Ever since she decked you third year. If you weren't tormenting her, you were kind of watching her. For a while I thought it was a secret crush. At least, until you started fucking Pansy." He grimaced. "But I can't talk to you about that, or I might punch you."

Draco had the wherewithal to look properly chagrined for his youthful hormones and sexual history with his best friend's wife.

Theo waved his hand dismissively as he continued. "Yule Ball you couldn't stop watching her. And I remember how shaken you were about her coming to harm in the Manor by your crazy aunt. I mean, you told me about it _months_ after the war. Right before your trial, if memory serves. But you were so shaken by it, it was like it had happened the day before."

Draco rubbed his eyes. The truth of his best friend's words making him weary. "The way you remember it, I can see why you thought I might have had a crush on her. But I swear I never did. It's not romantic…what I feel. At least…well. I _did_ have a brief urge to run my fingers through her hair while I was talking to her tonight. But it was an isolated thought and was gone as fast as it came over me."

"Well, thank Salazar you didn't act on it. Your fingers might have had to be amputated to get them out of that mane of hair."

A flush of irritation came over the blond.

Theo smirked knowingly. "You wanted to hex me just now, didn't you?"

"Theo, what is wrong with me? I don't want Hermione Granger! I don't. So why the fuck am I thinking about her? And why the hell did I get a warm, tingly feeling when my hand brushed hers tonight?"

Theo closed his eyes in exaggerated resignation. He was going to be here a while. "When my son comes to me and asks why I let his mother name him Chester, and how much it irritates the hell out of him when she calls him Chesty for short, I'm sending him your way."


	7. Changing

**AN:** Anne and I are happy to be back on the horse and we're so thrilled with everyone's response to the last chapter of Master Mine: A Lesson in Love. We are in the editing process of MML15 and hope that it will go to BETA by the end of the weekend. Planning to post next Friday. Until then, we hope you all enjoy this chapter of BtBR! Our love, Lissa & Snow

* * *

**BETA: **RaynePheonix2 & sab81790

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
Changing**

* * *

**_"Feels like your life changing." *_**

* * *

**August 2012**  
Fucking Ginny. The bloody witch guilted her into this. It was the last freaking place she wanted to be on a Wednesday night. She heaved a sigh and looked down at the lilac colored pamphlet. Spouse-loss Support Group. Ginny had heard about it through a friend who was a Mediwitch at St. Mungo's. She had insisted Hermione go and got Harry to back her up. Then, they took her children for the evening so she wouldn't have an excuse. Standing outside the little ma and pa café in Diagon Alley, she tried to screw her courage to the sticking point. Did she really want to be in a room filled with widows and widowers?

She had promised Ginny she would try it every week for a month. _Might as well go in and get it over with._ She pushed open the glass fronted door and was greeted by a portly, elderly witch who reminded her of everyone's favorite grandmother. After explaining why she was there, Hermione witnessed a sympathetic smile from the old witch before she was pointed to a door at the back of the dining room.

She felt like she was marching to her death as she zigzagged her way through the mostly empty tables. Pausing at the door, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves and pushed. She was confused by a rush of trepidation that washed over her, and her heart leapt unexpectedly. An overwhelming feeling that something …extraordinary… was going to happen; that something – no, someone – was coming.

The thought was interrupted by a murmur of voices, and then her focus was on the people present. The group was much larger than she expected. When the door closed with a loud clunk behind her, she jumped slightly and turned back to it before glancing to the circle of people chattering as they sat on the chairs that were provided. No one was paying her one bit of attention. Her gaze continued to roam the room and she froze, taking in the tall, pale, blond-haired man.

_Oh, my God. _She reached up to pluck at a curl as nerves took over. It was Malfoy. As in _Draco_ Malfoy. The boy who had attempted to make most of her existence at Hogwarts miserable. No matter the compassion she had for him after the war, she hadn't forgotten how he had once treated her.

Glancing back at the group, she seriously thought about bolting. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip and she started to chew worriedly. Damnit, she wasn't going to let him chase her away! She straightened her shoulders and started walking towards him.

"Malfoy?" she said hesitantly. She watched a small smirk quirk the corner of his mouth and felt a bit annoyed.

"Hey, Granger." It was said with…kindness? He was being nice? He certainly was nice looking. Her eyes swept down his body before fixing again on his face. Beautiful was the more appropriate word. Draco Malfoy was a beautiful man. _What the hell are you thinking, you chit?!_ she scolded herself hotly.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Draco gestured to the cart. "Most people are so wiped by this time of the evening they find the pick me up refreshing."

Hermione dropped surprised eyes to the tray and then flicked them back up to meet his. _The hell is he playing at? Him being nice is very off putting. I'm sure he's trying to figure out how to make an arse out of me. _"What's the catch?"

His brow wrinkled as if he was confused. It was quiet for a long moment before he replied, "Catch?"

"Yeah, the catch. You're going to dump it on me?" She frowned at him and crossed her arms suspiciously. The look that marred his face made her resolve deflate a little bit. Was that hurt? Had she hurt his feelings? Did Draco-freaking-Malfoy even _have_ feelings? What the _hell_ was he doing here anyway?

Draco raised his hands as if to show he was apologetic. "No catch, Granger!" he insisted. "Just a cup of coffee." His expression was innocent, but she narrowed her eyes at him anyway. He seemed…genuine. Giving a little sigh, she let her arms drop to her sides.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That wasn't fair. I'm nervous, my emotions are high. I guess old habits do die hard. I'd love some coffee."

He gave a light chuckle that made her stomach turn over a bit, fluttering as if his laugh affected her somehow. _It didn't affect you – __stop it. It's just a pretty face. He's a total arsehole and you know it_. He was talking again; Hermione forced herself to pay attention. "Forgiven. No worries. I've grown up a bit, though. Haven't purposely spilled anything on someone in years." He tossed her a crooked grin and her stomach flipped again. "How do you take it?"

_Hot and sweaty against the wall. Wait…where did that come from? _She felt herself flush as she whispered, "Cream and one sugar, please," her eyes widened in horror at her own inner dialogue. What the fuck was wrong with her?

He handed her a cup of coffee after dropping a dollop of cream and a sugar cube in it and their fingers brushed gently as she accepted the brew. It took everything in her not to drop the cup when a tingling warmth spread through her fingers where they had met his. It was a startling feeling and she felt panic rise in her chest – why would his touch cause such a reaction? All Hermione knew was she needed it to stop. She switched the coffee to her other hand and moved to rub the feeling away on her thigh, letting out a slow sigh as the sensation abated.

She couldn't think of anything else to say as she watched him pour himself a cup of coffee, so she raised her own to her lips and blew at it gently before taking a careful sip.

"You do know where you are, right, Granger?" Draco asked her softly. She didn't even know Malfoy knew the word sympathy, but his voice was flooded with it. "You do mean to be here?" Just like that, Hermione was suspicious. Why would he be concerned about her?

She wanted to throw the coffee away – had he put something in it? The tingling sensation first … now trying to ply her with sympathy? What was his game? She felt her Occlumency walls slam into place; she raised the barbed wire at the top with a snap of her imaginary wand. _Don't let your bloody guard down with this arsehole, Granger. He'll eat you for lunch if you let him._

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she hissed. She knowingly made her tone angry. Not realizing all of the other emotions she let through, Hermione wondered why his eyes had gone all soft and his face melted into a mask of understanding.

"My family has asked me to give it a try. I don't know what good it will do, but I'm trying not to disappoint. Harry and Ginny are worried about me. No one under… understands …" She took a deep breath as her voice hitched and her attempted Occlumency floundered – she had never been good at it. Especially with how passionate she tended to be. _Fuck. Do not cry in front of Malfoy!_

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said and reached out and cupped his hands around hers. That unexplainable, tingling warmth was back - making her think again that he'd spiked her coffee with something – only now it was creeping up her arms. She tried to jerk away from him, but he took that as a sign she didn't feel he was being sincere.

"I mean it!" Draco held her hands firmly in his and her heart started pounding erratically. She didn't want him to touch her! She didn't understand what was happening, and she hated that the heat of his hands over hers felt so good. Somewhere in her muddled, emotional brain, a voice reminded her that the tingling feeling happened before she had even taken a sip of her coffee … and now it was back again because his bare skin was against hers. Her brow furrowed as she tried to concentrate on his words.

"I understand, Granger. I do," he continued. "So do all these people in here. Everyone in this room has lost the witch or wizard they were married to. We all struggle with our friends and family not truly understanding. It's why we're here." She froze at this statement – it caught her attention and turned her focus away from the befuddling feeling of his skin against hers and her racing thoughts.

"Yeah?" Suddenly, she felt calm. A wave of peace slipped through her, and the heat that suffused her hands and arms suddenly warmed her to her toes. It was the first time she had felt truly warm in months.

"Yeah." He patted her hand before letting her go to her slight dismay. "You've come to the right place, little witch." _Little witch? Hmph! I'll show you a little witch. _It took effort not to glare at him.

"C'mon, let's find you a seat." He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and she resisted the urge to melt into the warm, reassuring feeling. A flash of alabaster hands running up the smooth, caramel colored skin of her bare back flashed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to make sense of the confusing image. There was no sense to be had – so she forced herself to dismiss it.

She allowed Draco to guide her to the rest of the group and led them to two open chairs before he gestured for her to take a seat. He settled himself next to her right side. Looking around, Hermione tried to figure out who the group leader was. Her eyes widened in realization, mouth popping open like a fish out of water, when Draco started to speak.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" His deep tenor voice cut through the room like a hot knife through butter and everyone turned their attention to him. She found herself impressed with his commanding presence.

There was a chorus of, "Good evening's" and "Doing good's" before the chatter died down.

"There are actually a couple new faces tonight, so I'd like to start by going around the circle and having you introduce yourself. Tell us a little something about you and your spouse's name. If you're comfortable sharing how they passed, please do that, too." He paused, meeting a few different sets of eyes before adding, "I'll start. I'm Draco Malfoy, I run this group voluntarily through St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I've headed this group for the last six months, but I've been coming almost two years." Hermione had to stifle her gasp of surprise before he continued.

"I lost my wife, Astoria, a little over six years ago. She had complications with the birth of our son, Scorpius. An aneurysm in her brain ruptured, she died quickly."

Hermione felt tears prickle in her eyes as her heart went out for him again. Even though she had known about his loss, she couldn't help the thoughts that flooded her mind. _It's still just bloody terrible! _A new perspective flooded her mind. _At least I had time with Ron. Two children. He got to watch them grow a little. _She fumbled with her bag for some tissues, but Malfoy beat her to it. Handing her a box of tissues without looking at her, he paid attention as the next few people were introducing themselves. She took it gratefully, pulled a handful of tissues out of it and continued to pass it to her left.

One woman had lost her Muggle husband in a car accident. Another of terminal disease. A very elderly man, who had to be in his early hundreds, lost his wife of one hundred and two years. She had died peacefully in her sleep. There were two other witches in the room who had lost their husbands in the explosion on the second of May. She was going to be a blubbering mess before the night was done, but she wasn't the only one who was tearful.

When it was her turn, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Last was a hard place to be. "I'm Hermione Granger." There was an audible gasp around the room as her name was recognized and she ducked her head. How had it escaped her mind that these people were going to know who she was? She tried to make a joke out of it. "Yes – that Hermione Granger. No, it wasn't as cool as the history books make it out to be." A faint chuckled rippled around the room.

"I'm a thirty-two-year-old mom of two. Rose is six and Hugo is four. My husband, Ron, was killed in the attack on the second of May, as well." She met the eyes of the other two witches whose spouses had also been killed that day. "We would be celebrating our ten-year anniversary next week…if…" She swallowed. "Anyway. We had been best friends since our first year at Hogwarts, so technically we'd been together almost twenty-one years." She gave a watery smile and avoided looking at everyone.

"Thanks, Hermione," Malfoy said softly, and she gave a slight nod, surprised he had used her given name. Then she sat back and listened. Listened as a half dozen people talked about their day to day struggles, finding herself nodding and exclaiming along with the group. Found herself sympathizing and understanding all too well what everyone was feeling. Some of her own feelings gained words she hadn't been able to find before this night. When the hour was up, she sat in her chair as most of the other's milled around, talking and laughing together. Some had left quickly, but most were chattering with others like they were great friends. Malfoy was back at the coffee cart seeing everyone off as they left.

The relief that she felt in her soul was palpable. Every person she met tonight knew exactly how she was feeling. They all knew what she was going through. Even if their stories varied, they had one thing in common – they had lost their other half.

The room cleared out slowly and soon only she, Malfoy and a couple of others were left. She checked her watch and decided she had to get going. She fished a hair elastic out of her bag and pulled her piles of curls into a messy bun on top of her head before she gathered her things and started walking towards the door.

"Hey Granger?" Malfoy called out. She looked at him over her shoulder. "You're all right?"

She nodded slowly.

"We'll see you next week?"

"Yes, I believe you will." He gave her a small smile and a wave, and she returned the gesture with a dip of her head before exiting the small party room.

She missed the way his face crumpled with confusion and no small amount of panic as the door swung shut behind her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The late August heat was stifling during the day, but in the twilight of the evening, it was tolerable. Welcome, even. Hermione slung her purse across her body and slowly made her way towards the Leaky Cauldron. She had a lot on her mind.

The group had been good. No…it had been amazing. To be intimately connected with complete strangers in such a way was a bit off-putting, but more helpful than anything she could have imagined. Just knowing that there were other people on earth who knew what she was going through … _exactly_ what she was going through … made her feel less lonely.

Lonely. It wasn't until tonight that she even realized that was how she felt. Alone. So, so alone with the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Ron had shouldered his fair share of the burdens of running and maintaining a household and parenting when he had been alive; now that he was gone … she was alone. She had no choice but to do the majority of it herself.

Of course, she had other family and friends who were there to help when they could – but they all had their own lives, too. They had partners and jobs and children to care for. They were not her other half. Her other half … he was … he was gone. She sniffled a bit and then realized she had walked right past the Leaky while lost in her thoughts. Digging through her purse, Hermione pulled out her wand and a couple of tissues. She blotted her eyes before tucking the tissues into her left hand and swirling her wand to conjure her Patronus. She relayed a message to Ginny that she was going to be a bit late, she needed to take a walk and process, but would be there soon. After she sent the dancing otter away, Hermione tucked her wand into her messy bun.

She continued walking up Diagon Alley, not paying attention to the minimal late evening traffic of people. Many of the shops closed at eight, so the business that usually accompanied a trip to the Alley was not present. When she reached the end of the cobblestone street, she looked up at the sign post that pointed to different shops just before the entrance to Knockturn Alley and sighed. She needed to think…where could she go?

Glancing to her right, the Apparition Point banner grabbed her attention. In a flash, she made the decision and crossed the street only to disappear with a loud _crack_!

When she landed in the little cemetery outside of Ottery St. Catchpole, her breath caught in her throat. It was hard to keep the tears at bay, so she let herself lose control of her firm façade. They slipped silently down her cheeks as she approached the large, Gryffindor Lion that marked Ron's final resting place. She sank down next to the cold, white with gold-veined marble and leaned her side against it as she began talking. She told him about the grief meeting in detail. About how two of his co-worker's wives were there and how they were dealing with the loss of their husbands. How there was an old man who had been married to his wife for over hundred years before she passed in her sleep; how she was simultaneously jealous of the man for all the time they'd had while still aching for him in her heart for the loss of his long-time wife. She paused for a stretch of time before she continued.

"I didn't want to go, you know," she murmured while running her fingers through the new grass that had grown over the burial site. "I think Ginny was right to force me into it, though. I think it's going to be good for me to have other people to talk to."

Hermione sniffled and used the tissue she had been holding to wipe her face. "You'll never guess who runs the darn group, Ron," she broke off in a chuckle. "Malfoy. Yes…Draco Malfoy. Can you believe it?

"I couldn't at first," she glanced away from the stone she conversed with the see that the sun was quickly sinking beyond the hill of the cemetery. "I instantly went on alert, waiting for insults or tricks. But he was kind…do you remember that he lost his wife a few years back? It was just before Rosie was born."

She was quiet, and it was almost like she could hear her husband talking back to her. _I'll never understand why you always had a soft spot for Malfoy, 'Mione. I'll never get it, but it's what makes you…well, you. Always too compassionate for your own good. _If she kept her eyes closed tight enough, she could just about feel the press of his lips on her forehead, the brush of his thumb across her cheek, and the warmth of his breath in her ear as he chuckled bemusedly at her.

She argued playfully with him in her mind. _You know he's changed since the war, Ron. We know his whole story now. He was scared, his mum's life had been threatened with his failure. His whole family turned at the end. Lucius sat in Azkaban for three years, they paid restitutions, Narcissa does so much volunteer work and hosts so many fundraisers it's almost nauseating. They've reformed._

Out loud, she continued, "And Draco is different. There's a sadness in his eyes. He holds himself differently – he's not so pompous, so … aristocratic … anymore. He's more … human."

_Like I said, a soft spot. Like he's another of your special projects. Like spew or your Werewolf Reform Act. The Death Eater you could save._ He laughed at her again and she couldn't help but smile, because he was right.

She teased him back, _You never could get it right, you wanker. It's S.P.E.W.! _Her laughter now floated in her mind right along with his.

Even though Draco Malfoy had been horrible to her in school, she had always been aware of him – and had often felt sorry for him. She always felt he hid behind a mask of his father's beliefs. When asked why she defended him, Hermione always told people that it was a feeling. It had been an inkling from the moment they had met on the Hogwarts Express when she was helping Neville look for his toad.

He hadn't been nice, per say, but he hadn't been cruel, either. Malfoy had rolled his eyes at her and Neville and told them that he hadn't seen a toad. In the weeks that had passed the beginning of their first year at Hogwarts, he had gone on to just seem confused and genuinely surprised with her in their classes the first few weeks of term. Looking back, her theory was that he had been shocked by her magical ability and confused that many things his father had taught him about Muggleborns weren't correct. Her theory fit well through Second Year and his continued cruelty. It wasn't until Third Year, however, that she truly became aware of him. The inkling that had started on the train before their first year blossomed into an awareness that started sometime after she slugged him the day Buckbeak had been sentenced to die.

Oh, she had hated him. Hated him beyond belief and reason. But she was always aware of him. Always seemed to know when he walked into a room. It had been infuriating.

Sixth year had changed everything. Instead of hating him – she was scared for him. Scared that Harry's theories about him being a Death Eater were true. Worried as she watched him deteriorate all year long. Angry with Harry for using that spell on him – though at the time she told herself it was because she was worried about how much trouble Harry would be in, not that Malfoy had almost died.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, when she saw him fighting on their side – on the side of the Light – the relief that had gone through her was tangible. It turned to pride following the war and during the trials. He spoke as a witness against many other Death Eaters. He plead guilty to all his own misdeeds. He took responsibility for what had been done. Without hers, Ron's, and Harry's testimonies about the things he had done right during the war – such as not actually killing Dumbledore when presented with the opportunity and not identifying them at Malfoy Manor – and the fact that he had been forced to take the Mark at sixteen and had not been a legal adult, he probably would have faced a few years in Azkaban alongside his father.

"The Death Eater we all saved," she whispered finally. "You, me, and Harry saved that whole family, and they've never made me regret it. And now Draco Malfoy is leading a spouse-loss grief group … so who was right?" She couldn't help the smirk that crossed her face.

The joyous mirth she heard in her mind made tears tumble again. And it was like a whisper on the wind when his voice echoed, _You, 'Mione. But then again, you're always right._

XXXXXXXXXX

Hermione left the cemetery and Apparated to her house. From there, she flooed to the Potter's. She felt a bit guilty. The grief group meeting ended at 7:15 and it was almost ten o'clock. She had completely lost track of time.

She brushed the minimal soot off her robes as she stepped into the living room. "Gin? Harry?" she whispered, not wanting to yell out in case everyone was asleep.

A sleepy Ginny Potter entered from the kitchen holding two mugs of tea. "At last. I've been dying to know how it went," the red head said softly. "Take off your cloak and sit with me."

"I'm so sorry, Gin. I should have been back two hours ago!" Hermione offered apologetically as she slipped off her outer robes and took the kind, warm offering. She hadn't realized how cold her fingers were until she felt the warmth seep into her skin.

"Sshh, now. None of that. The kids are sleeping, and all is well. You know they are never a bother."

Hermione sat on the sofa and took Ginny's free hand in her own. "Thanks." Both witches sipped their tea and let out sighs of contentedness.

"So, how was it?" Ginny gently prodded; unsure what to expect for an answer.

Hermione let out a deep sigh. "It was…good, Gin. Better than I was expecting."

"Really?" Ginny asked, heartfeltly. "You didn't hate it? I've been worrying all night that we pushed you into something you weren't ready for."

Hermione lightly shook her head. "No. It was," she paused and then finished, "unexpected." She took another swallow. "There were about fifteen people there. They were all like me; Men and women who were dealing with the loss of a beloved spouse."

She looked up into her friend's brown eyes. "Lexie Poppinstock was there. You remember her, the American who married Billy Gibbons?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "Oh yeah, he was on one of his first Auror assignments that day." Ginny closed her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief. It was still hard to accept how many lives had been lost.

Neither said anything for a minute as they composed their thoughts. Hermione then continued. "There was a wizard who had been married to his wife for over one hundred years, Ginny. Can you even imagine what he's going through? They have great, great grandchildren!"

Hermione hesitated and then added, "You'll never guess who led the meeting!" The minute the words had escaped her lips, she regretted them. She wasn't ready to discuss Draco Malfoy with Ginny. She could feel her skin flush at the memory of soft, grey eyes watching her with understanding. The electricity that coursed over her skin when Draco innocently touched her. The brief desire for him to grab hold of her and take her right then and there when he asked her how she liked her coffee. She cringed at the memory. It had been an unwelcome and inappropriate thought, no matter how fleeting. Was she that lonely already? Was she that desperate to be held again? To be physically touched and desired?

Hermione forced back her thoughts about Draco Malfoy. She averted her eyes when she caught Ginny staring at her, expectantly. "Well, are you going to tell me? Or am I really supposed to guess?"

Trying to cover her tracks, Hermione waved a hand dismissively, "I just realized you don't know him. I worked with him a few years ago. He lost his wife unexpectedly a long time ago. He was very kind and welcoming."

Ginny stared at Hermione. There was something she was picking up on, but she wasn't quite sure. She dismissed it quickly. Ginny was a very intuitive witch, not quite a seer, but she often understood things before others did. Filing the observation in the back of her mind, she asked, "Where did you go afterwards? Why are you so late getting back?"

Hermione had to think for a second when her sister-in-law's question pulled her from the recesses of her mind. "Umm, I went to talk to Ron. I needed to spend time with him." She closed her eyes. "Ginny, I don't want to let go of him." A tear escaped her left bottom lash. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'm going to forget…I'm going to forget the little things." A sob escaped as her hand flew to her eyes, trying to head off a gush of tears. "It's too soon. I'm not ready."

Ginny ignored her own tears as she pulled Hermione to her shoulder and held her tight. She could only imagine what Hermione was going through; Anger that the pain was still so acute, frustration that it wasn't getting any easier, and a deep rooted fear that it _would_ get easier - a sense of guilt for moving on, and sheer panic that memories would fade. How was a woman supposed to move on when she was plagued by guilt for letting herself do so?

"It's alright, 'Mione. You won't forget. Harry and I won't let you. Ron will forever and always be in our hearts. But you have to try to move on, love. For Rose. For Hugo. It doesn't have to be today. Just take baby steps. Like going to the grief group." She continued to hold her best friend. "But one thing I can promise, no matter what, my brother will always be with us."

*_Feels Like Today_ written by Wayne Hector and Steven Robson. Produced by Mark Bright and Marty Williams. Performed by Rascal Flatts from the album "Feels Like Today".


	8. I Think I'm Falling

**AN: This week's update! Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**I Think I'm Falling****  
Chapter Eight  
****BETA – RaynePheonix2  
**

* * *

**_"_****_I've been spending all my time just thinking about you. I don't know what to do, I think I'm falling for you."*  
_**

* * *

**September 13****th****, 2012**  
"You seem…different," Narcissa cocked her head at Draco, watching her son bathe her grandson.

"How do you mean?" Draco's eyebrows shot up as he gestured for Scorpius to turn in the tub so he could scrub his hair.

"You know, I can do this myself, Dad," the six-year-old complained haughtily. Draco almost laughed; the kid was his spitting image right down to the pretentious scowl that once lived fixedly on his face.

"You keep making that face and it will stick permanently," he teased as Scorpius obligingly spun in the tub and tilted his head back for scrubbing. "I should know, mine was stuck like that for almost twenty years. It took finding your mum to put it right."

"My mum was beautiful," Scorpius sighed wistfully. "Wasn't she?"

"Stunning," Draco agreed with a small smile on his face.

"Lighter," Narcissa finally said from the doorway.

"Huh?" Draco, wrapped up in his child, hadn't even remembered that he'd been speaking to his mother.

"You seem lighter. Hopeful…oh! Draco!" He looked up at her in cautious surprise; that tone could go either way. "You've _met_ someone! Someone good!" She clapped her hands in excitement.

"No, mother. No." He tried to look at her in the eyes, but she would know instantly that he was lying.

"Draco!" Her eagerness grew tenfold. "Tell me now. Who?"

"I've not met anyone new, mum," he sighed heavily, pouring a small metal pitcher of water over the gangly blond boy's head.

"An old acquaintance then?"

Draco grimaced. His mother was too perceptive for her own good. "I've been reacquainted with someone I knew in school. But if anything comes of it, it will be very, very slowly. Do _not_ pester me." He felt he laced the appropriate amount of threat into his voice, but as usual Narcissa Malfoy brushed aside that which she did not wish to hear.

"Why slow?"

"Daddy? Can I have my grindylows now?"

"Because I met her at group, and her husband has only been dead months. She will need time. Here you go bud," Draco responded to Scorpius after replying to his mother by dumping in a bucket of small grindylow figures, which instantly leapt to life at contact with the water. Scorpius dove down into the bath and started directing their warfare.

Narcissa's nose wrinkled in distaste. "She was married?"

Draco rolled his eyes and stood. Wiping his hands on a towel, he smirked at his son's antics. "Does it matter? I was married."

"But, Draco. You should marry someone young and unattached."

"Sweet Merlin, mother. I'm not marrying anyone! I'm not even going to ask her out on a date. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever ask her out. It would be…it's not right. She's not the right person_." No matter how it feels to be in the same room with her. No matter how something tingles every time she's near. No matter how aware of her I always seem to be._ "She…she probably won't be receptive of me anyway." He grimaced as soon as he said it, knowing this would only prompt more questions.

"Who wouldn't want to date you? You're beautiful, successful, powerful…not to mention beyond well-to-do." _Narcissa Malfoy, witches and wizards – shallow as shallow can be._ He felt guilty even as the words tumbled through his mind. He loved his mother, she was a good woman.

"We knew each other in school," he heard himself saying to his utter horror. "I wasn't exactly nice to her."

This made Narcissa pause, her eyes narrowed as she appraised her son thoughtfully. "Why does you saying that fill me with a sense of unease, Draco?"

He felt his eyes close of their own accord in order to hide his immediate frustration. He was not getting into this with her. Not now. Not before he'd even decided whether or not to ask the bloody witch out for coffee. Which he obviously was _not_ going to do. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy? A coffee date? What a joke.

_But you could…_ He was pretty sure she would be at the next meeting as she had attended the last four faithfully. He had been oddly thrilled to see her again and again. Every time she turned up, he couldn't help but smile. He went out of his way to talk to her and the old wizard, Gregory, was starting to give him knowing glances and eyebrow-raises. She seemed to really be gleaning strength from the group, too. Which meant there was some personal healing going on. At the last one, they had stood at the coffee cart chattering for almost forty minutes after group had ended. Only when the restaurant proprietor had come in to let them know they'd been closing in twenty minutes and requested to take the coffee cart away to dismantle and clean did they even realize how long they'd been talking. Horrified, she had stared at her watch open-mouthed, shocked that the time had passed so quickly he presumed. He had been a little more than baffled himself.

She had muttered something about being late to pick up kids and that Ginny was going to kill her, or be horribly excited it had taken her so long to get home (which confused him further) before giving him a quick hug (which had almost made him fall over in shock) and shouting she'd see him the next week. She had disappeared in a swirl of bushy brown curls and a honeysuckle-jasmine scent that was heady and intoxicating.

Draco shook his head to try and refocus. No, it was still too soon. It _was_ too soon, wasn't it? What was the appropriate length of time one should let a widow grieve?

"Draco?" His mother was looking at him, a frown tugging the corners of her perfectly painted pout. "Who is she?" Uh-oh, he'd done it. Got too lost in his thoughts…his mother had that look in her eye.

He groaned internally before he cleared his throat and shook his head. "If she agrees to go out with me, and I successfully take her out for at least seven dates, I will introduce you to her. Just like every other woman I've ever dated. Before then, you needn't worry about a thing because it doesn't exist."

* * *

Scorpius' breaths were even and deep. _Finally!_ Draco thought with relief as he levitated 'The Bowtruckle and the Wandmaker' back to its prized and prominent place of distinction on his son's bookshelf. It would be a different book's home any day now, but for now it was Scorpius' favorite. Slipping the boy's head onto his pillow, Draco lightly kissed his son's brow before tucking his stuffed unicorn up next to him. It was a toy Astoria had picked out and while the boy had outgrown carrying it around with him all the time, he wouldn't sleep without it. Even before the child was aware it had come from the mother he never knew; he had held an affinity for it.

Extinguishing the light, Draco quietly exited the room, leaving the door slightly ajar the way Scorpius liked. A quick apparition to his room to grab a light cloak and Draco left for the Nott's.

The tinkling laughter of a small child greeted Draco's ears as he came through the floo. "Daddy, you're silly," the unmistakable voice of Theo's daughter, Emmaline, rang out. Not wanting to miss seeing his Goddaughter, Draco followed the voices and found Theo carrying the five-year old up the stairs.

"Uncle Draco!" she screeched in unbridled joy the second her blue eyes caught sight of him.

"Hey brat," he responded with a smirk.

Recognizing a lost battle, Theo resignedly paused and released the wildly wiggling little girl at the bottom step. Emmy burst into giggles as she ran to her second favorite man in the world.

Draco scooped her up and spun her around. "How's my princess? You giving your father a hard time and wreaking havoc for your mother like I told you?"

"Nooo!" She squealed as Draco began to mercilessly tickle her.

"No?" he asked with mock incredulity as she squirmed and giggled.

"Oh Draco, how will you ever recover? A woman who didn't jump to do your bidding." Draco turned to a very pregnant Pansy who was standing with her arms crossed and the signature Slytherin smirk on her face.

He grinned. "She's only five. By the time she's a teenager I'll have her complete allegiance."

"Please, don't give my anxiety closet another weapon to torment me," Theo chimed in as he held his hand out to his daughter. "Come along Emma, time to brush and change for bed."

Draco blew a raspberry on her cheek and then set her down.

"Eww," she screeched with continued laughter as she wiped her cheek and climbed up the two stairs to her father.

Draco watched as Theo picked up his daughter and carried her up to her room. He could just hear before they were out of ear shot, "Daddy, can I wear the pajamas with the flying lions on them?"

"Don't ask," Pansy grumbled when Draco threw her a surprised look. She turned and headed back to the study with him following on her heels.

"Flying Lions?"

"It's the stuff of nightmares and a huge occupant of Theo's anxiety closet."

Rubbing his chin, Draco couldn't help but chuckle. "Why in the world does she even have a pair of Gryffindor pajamas?"

Pansy sighed. "She has a thing…well, an obsession is more like it…with the fucking Golden Trio. Potter, in particular."

"Oh, Pans. I'm so sorry for your loss," Draco teased.

The brunette beauty brushed her bangs from her eyes. Her chin was held high and she displayed grace and strength, like she was a woman standing before a tribunal assembled to judge her. "Yes, well. It's these little struggles in life that make us stronger." Her eyes then took on an obvious flicker of amusement when she added, "Besides, Emma is only five. What's your excuse?"

Draco tossed his hands in the air. "He told you?"

Pansy looked at him like he had turned into the three headed dog. "Why are you surprised? You know that man harbors no secrets from me."

"No, he's under your spell. There's no question," Draco conceded as he collapsed into a wing back chair.

Pansy seemed to preen at the comment. She patted her hair and then walked towards the side bar where she began preparing drinks. "So, the question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Draco's jaw slackened. "Do about it?"

"Yes, my darling," she responded with exaggerated patience. "Now that you have finally come to realize what Theo and I have known since Hogwarts, what are going to do? How are you going to address this little obsession of yours?" She handed him a firewhisky and sipped her sparkling water, her eyebrows rising as she looked at him. "Do shut your mouth, love. You look like a wrackspurt riddled Hufflepuff."

Draco snapped his mouth closed. Leaning back in his chair, he sipped his drink. "You've been spending too much time with Luna, Pans."

Pansy shrugged dismissively before draping herself awkwardly onto the chaise lounge across from him, a look of bliss on her face as she toed off her shoes. "She's lovely. And Emma and the twins adore her. I'll be very disappointed when she finishes her dissertation and leaves our employ." She narrowed her gaze. "Besides, don't change the subject."

Draco sighed. Memories of his conversation with his mother replayed in his mind. He rolled his eyes. "I don't want to do anything about it. I want this…_concern_ I have to go away. I don't want Hermione Granger…in any way, shape, or form."

Pansy shook her head lightly and sat up with great effort, gingerly swinging her legs to the floor so that she was facing him. In the back of his mind, Draco applauded the woman for handling pregnancy with such grace. He was so glad to have been born a man. He was pulled from his musings by her words. "Why are you so dead set against accepting this attraction for what it is?" Gone was the typical condescending Pansy Nott. Draco was now looking into the sincere and concerned eyes of one of his dearest friends. "All teasing aside, Hermione Granger is quite a catch. Attractive, in a witch next door sort of way, intellectually superior than most, admired and looked up to by the majority of the magical community. Let's face it, if there were a most eligible bachelorette award, it would be her. Despite being a widow and having two rugrats."

Draco rubbed his bottom lip with his index finger before swallowing down the last of his drink. "How in the world would that even work, Pans? She almost died in my home. I tormented her all through school. I represented everything she feared, and she represented everything I foolishly hated." He stood and ran his hands through his hair as he started to pace. "There is too much history. I just…No! It's impossible. And damn her for coming to the user group. Damn her for messing with my peace of mind." Still pacing, he continued, "I'll find another witch who looks like her, shag her brains out and be done with it."

Just then, Theo walked into the room and looked at his wife. "How's it going? Have we reached acceptance, yet?"

Pansy shook her head. "We've just hit bargaining."

Draco halted and stared at Theo before cutting a glare at Pansy. "For Salazar's sake! I am not experiencing the stages of grief!"

Theo arched a brow. "I think we're still in denial."

Draco huffed and collapsed back into the chair. "Screw you both."

The room was silent. Feeling slightly guilty for lashing out his friends, Draco peeked up. Theo was sitting next to his wife, but they were both staring at Draco with patient, knowing expressions.

He stared at them for a minute before his shoulders sagged in defeat. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, I have a thing for Hermione 'the-swot-queen' Granger. What the hell am I going to do?"

"And acceptance, at last," Theo said as he rubbed his hands together. He stood and picked up Pansy and Draco's empty glasses and headed to the sidebar where he prepared three sparkling waters with lime wedges. "No more hiding from this. Let's talk it through." He handed the drinks out and then sat back down next to his wife.

Draco sipped the refreshing beverage and sighed. "This is impossible, it's all moot. The woman would never want anything to do with me."

Pansy laughed. "Draco, darling. Snap out of it! You are devilishly handsome, stunningly rich, have tremendous charm, and are a giant marshmallow under your hard shell. Not to mention you're a great lay."

Draco's right eyebrow cocked up as Theo interjected, "I'm not sure I like the direction of this conversation."

Pansy beamed at her husband. "None of that, Teddy. You're the love of my life and are all those things and more. Besides, you have a bigger cock. Which I expect you to use later."

Theo's frown turned into a big beaming smile as he looked triumphantly back at his best friend.

Draco smirked as he rolled his eyes. He was used to this. "Whatever."

Pansy sighed. "Draco, man up and talk to her. Ask her for coffee. Maybe if you spend a little time with her, you'll have a better idea of what you really want. Maybe your interest will wane."

"Or maybe it won't," Theo interjected.

"Either way, you will have at least done something. Don't you think it's about time you tried to be happy again?" Pansy added.

A pop of Apparation marked the entrance of a small house elf with twitching ears.

"What is it, Pickle? Are Bertram and Ernest alright?"

Pickle bowed. "The twins are restless this evening, Mistress, and are asking for their Mummy."

Theo stood and assisted his wife to stand. She turned to Draco and smiled. "I want to see you happy. Do whatever it takes. Even if it means bringing the Princess of Gryffindor trio into our lives." With that, she kissed her husband on the cheek and walked out of the room.

Draco turned back to Theo. "You're right. Your wife can't be allowed to name my godson. Thank Salazar you named my goddaughter."

* * *

**September 20****th****, 2012  
**Draco couldn't help the jolt of his heart when Granger entered the meeting. He had her coffee ready and cooling and smiled at her warmly as he passed her the cup without words. Purposely letting their fingers touch, he was starting to become addicted to the sensation of her skin against his – every time it felt the same, that sizzling tingle.

"Evening, Malfoy," she returned his smile and he took in the subtle flush to her cheeks and the shy way her eyes lowered before she turned and made her way to the seat directly next to the one he always took. His gaze lingered on her messy curls, watching them twist and bounce as she walked. They fell to the small of her back, and Draco realized he was growing awfully fond the long mane of hair. His fingers itched to sink into it and then his mind's eye flashed and he suddenly could feel her straddling him, the tresses he had been admiring spilling all around them like a curtain.

"You're a smitten, kiddo." Gregory startled Draco, he hadn't heard the door open even though the hinges grated something fierce. "When a'you gunna do sommat 'bout it?"

Draco was brought out of the vision almost rudely and felt his jaw drop before he clacked his teeth together and started preparing a beverage for the old man. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he answered nonchalantly.

Gregory let out a whoop of laughter, making Draco jump and several other people from the group glance their way with a smile. Even though his laughter was loud, his voice was quiet when he continued, "Sure you don', laddie. You keep tellin' yerself that, 'kay?"

Draco felt a tinge of heat fill his cheeks as the man walked away. After a few more minutes and two more group members arriving, Draco moved to his spot next to Hermione. Not for the first time, he noticed how much more at ease he felt when he was around her. It was almost like he was constantly filled with an abnormal energy, but when she was by him, it dissipated, and her presence made him feel content and…safe.

He mentally shook his head. _Don't be ridiculous, Draco._ _You're imagining things. Are you really so hard up that Granger has become the object of your obsession?_ He forced himself to focus and start the group.

After an hour and twenty minutes, the small room was cleared. Not making the same mistake twice, Hermione offered to take the coffee cart to the front of the diner while Draco stacked chairs. He was thrilled to note she left her purse and light jacket on her own chair, indicating that she planned to return. Flicking his wand, Draco put away the circle of chairs, leaving two out for them to sit and chat in if she so desired.

Hermione came back a few minutes later carrying a couple of small plates with what looked like individual sized treacle tarts on them with clotted cream. "Hungry?" she asked when she noticed him eyeing the plates with a glint in his eye. "These are fresh out of the oven. I couldn't resist!"

She held one out for him and grinned when he took it almost eagerly from her hand. "I love treacle tart," he admitted and unashamedly dug into the flaky pastry while helping himself to one of the chairs.

"They're great here, too!" She laughed when he gave a low moan of appreciation, and Draco had to try and ignore the way the sound made his abdominals clench.

"How're you doing this week?" he inquired as she moved her bag from the chair to the floor. She smiled sweetly, almost to herself as she focused on scooping up her first bite of the sweet.

"Every day seems to get a little bit easier," she admitted, lifting her fork. Just before she took a bite, she admitted, "Coming here helps, more than I imagined it would"

"That's really good," he encouraged. "It did for me, too. I wish I had come earlier than I did. I didn't find out about the group until almost three years after Astoria died."

They ate in silence for a few minutes before she asked, "How's Scorpius? He's…six, right?"

Draco held up a hand as he swallowed a bite of tart before answering, "Yes. Turned six on the fourth of February. Isn't your Rose about the same age? March, right?"

He somewhat regretted being so knowledgeable about her daughter when she turned surprised eyes on him. He noted the color with growing admiration, a deep amber with shots of espresso. Beautiful and wide, framed with thick lashes.

"T-that's right," she agreed. "On the seventeenth."

"St. Patrick's Day baby? That's fun!" He gave her what he hoped was a genuine smile. "Tell me about her – and Hugo."

Again, Hermione looked startled, and he decided to wait patiently when she scooped the last bite of her dessert into her mouth. And then her mouth distracted him, it was just as pretty as her eyes. Her lips were full, the upper just slightly bigger than the lower and he imagined himself kis – _Whoa now, Malfoy!_ he scolded himself as he choked a bit on his tart. He reached for his coffee and wound up taking too big of a gulp, causing the choke to move into a full-blown coughing fit.

"Merlin! Are you alright?" She stood quickly, leaning over him to thump on his back a bit. The unexpected touch, coupled with the fact that her hair was suddenly all around him, drowning him in the smell of honeysuckle, almost made him suck in another breath that probably would have killed him. He pulled away from her the best that he could and took another swig, trying to clear his throat.

"I – I'm – " He had to stop to cough again. "I'm okay!" he sputtered out. "Jus – Just a sec!"

Hermione backed off immediately, but her eyes were wide with concern. He swallowed a few more times and took one more drink before he was able to get a clear breath. "I'm so sorry," he forced a hoarse chuckle. His throat was raw from coughing and he was completely embarrassed by his lack of etiquette. "Totally went down the wrong side."

Even though she still looked a bit uncertain, Hermione retook her seat. "It's okay, I'm just glad you're okay. I've never had to give the Heimlich before."

Draco could not stop the confused, "The Heim-what?"

Hermione let out a small snort. "Heimlich. I'm sorry," she laughed louder, "that was totally Muggle." Then she tensed, almost as if she just remembered who she was talking to.

"Muggle, huh?" Draco gave her a lopsided grin. "Well, that means you'll have to explain it to me."

He had to hand it to her, she barely even blinked before she launched into a detailed description of what the Heimlich Maneuver entailed, ending with a, "Although, in recent years, researchers recommend the Heimlich be used as a last resort. Back blows should be used first. And _only_ if the person cannot breathe. You weren't there, I probably should have let you be unless you went silent."

Draco had to admit he was a bit fascinated. Even if he had never wondered what Muggle would do in a situation where _Detrudo_ would be warranted.

After that, they fell into easy conversation about their children, comparing parenting notes and laughing at their antics. It was only when Hermione glanced at her watch and let out a bit of a sigh, did he realize it had gotten late again. Why was it so easy to talk to her these days?

"I should get going," she murmured.

"I suppose Weaslette's probably wondering where you are again," Draco teased lightly.

"No, not tonight. I told her I'd most likely be – " she faltered and Draco watched with fascination as a beautiful blush filled her cheeks, " – late." She ended on a whisper and Draco couldn't help the smirk and eyebrow raise at how obviously flustered she was. It didn't matter that his own heartrate accelerated slightly. _Did she plan to stay at talk with me after group? _

"Enjoy talking with me that much, Granger?" He sneered playfully at her, purposely trying to egg her on.

Her nose tilted in the air as she rose from her seat and pulled her coat on. "Bring our cups, please?" she instructed, ignoring his question as she collected their plates, forks, and napkins.

He forced his laugh back down his throat and did as she asked without saying a word. They walked out of the backroom together, returning the dishes and garbage to the empty counter. They called their goodbyes to the elderly couple they could see through the food window, waving as the old woman's face appeared with a friendly smile and a nod.

As the cowbell on the door chimed noisily behind them, he offered, "Can I walk you to the Apparation point?" Instantly he felt a bit self-conscious and shoved one hand in his pocket while running the other through the long locks on top of his head.

"That's alright, Malfoy," she gave him a wry smile, "I'm sure I can handle that short distance on my own."

Now it was Draco's turn to blush, and he cursed internally when he felt the heat fill his cheeks. "Fine, Granger," he nodded, making sure to keep the disappointment off his face by curling his lips in a small smile, "ignore my attempt at chivalry."

She tossed her head back, curls flying, as she laughed and he felt his stomach clench for the second time that night. "You? Chivalrous? You're dreaming, Malfoy." She wiggled her fingers at him. "Have a great night, I'll see you next week."

"'Night, Granger."

* * *

******* "****Falling For You" written by Colbie Caillat and Rick Nowels. Produced by Rick Nowels, John Shanks, and Ken Caillat. Performed by Colbie Caillat on her album **_**Breakthrough**_**.**


	9. Worry is Wasteful

**Chapter Nine  
**Worry is Wasteful

* * *

**BETAs:** RaynePhoenix2 & sab81790

* * *

**_"_****_If I could tell the world just one thing, it would be that we're all okay. And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these."*  
_**

* * *

**September 20****th****, 2012  
**Hermione replayed the conversation she had with Draco after the last meeting over and over in her mind all week. It had gotten to the point where she was staring off into space during work. _During work!_ She never got distracted in the office. She loved what she did. She had a rewarding job.

Her mind wandered, again, back to the way he'd asked so sincerely how she was doing. How he had inquired after her kids – calling them by their names! He had smiled so easily, showing off straight, even, white teeth. Gods, he had great teeth. She remembered the way he had run his hand through his short locks with his other hand shoved in his pocket like he was self-conscious while offering to walk her to the Apparation point with eyes shining like polished silver. Had she imagined the disappointment when she turned him down?

She shook herself again. This had to stop. Sodding Draco Malfoy was getting under her skin – big time. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and she knew it. For all she knew, he was this way with all the widows who came through that group. She wondered how many of the other women he had sweet talked into his bed. She sighed. It would be best if she distanced herself from him. It didn't matter how gorgeous he was, she wouldn't find herself another one of his conquests. He might be beautiful; he might even seem sweet. Yes, he'd lost his wife. Yes, it was obvious he loved his son. She remembered who he really was, though. A highly prejudiced arsehole who had tormented her for years. She sighed and resigned herself to finishing her workday – forcing grey eyes and gleaming smiles out of her mind.

Two hours later, she frog-marched Hugo and Lily to the floo. They popped unceremoniously out of the Potter's fireplace. She chuckled when she noticed Hugo's nose covered with soot and brandishes her wand to clean both children up.

"Hey, 'Mi!" Ginny called, not looking up from the pan she was frying ground beef in. "How're you doing today?"

"It's been a good day," she answered with a smile as her friend flashed her a grin. "You're sure you're okay with keeping the kids again tonight? I can set up something with a sitter for group nights, you know."

"I know you could, but I want them here." Ginny's words were sincere.

"_We_ want them here." Hermione smiled at Harry's adamant statement as he joined them in the kitchen, taking over with Hugo as Lily fought for her mother's attention. "We love having them."

"You guys are the best. I just have some errands to run. Rose needs some new shoes and socks and Hugo's jacket is too small - it's starting to get cool, so he needs a new one. Then, I need to stop at Flourish and Blotts. I'll grab some dinner at the café where the meeting is held at. I should be back here by eight fifteen-ish?"

"Mmm, unless you get held up again by Mr. Mysterious…" Ginny waggled her eyebrows and Hermione cringed inwardly. She knew that her redheaded friend was very curious and making assumptions about why she was late after almost every group meeting.

Harry's head shot up in surprise. "What do you mean?" he sounded horrified.

"It's nothing," Hermione insisted. "Our group leader is wonderful. He lost his wife about six-years ago. We were just talking afterwards the last couple times and got a little caught up, I lost track of the time."

"She thinks he's hot!" Ginny giggled, raising an eyebrow at Hermione in hopes of a confirmation.

"What's hot, Mom?" Lily asked Ginny, tugging on her apron.

"The pan is hot, Lil-bug," Ginny grinned down at her daughter as Harry guffawed at the interaction between his wife and daughter. "Why don't you and Hugo go find the big kids to play?"

"Kay, Mummy," Lily answered with a toothy grin.

Once the kids disappeared, calling for James and Rose and Albus as they went, Hermione responded. "Why do you think I think he's hot?" she asked, voice tinged with amusement.

Harry rounded on Hermione, not letting his wife respond. "Who is he?"

The amused look that was on Hermione's face slipped a bit and Ginny gave a sound of protest at the tone of her husband's voice. "Harry!" she scolded.

"Ron's barely been dead four months and you're already thinking about dating?" His tone was accusatory, and Hermione's eyes filled with tears instantaneously.

"It's not like that, Harry!" she whispered vehemently. "He's just an acquaintance. We share something you couldn't possibly understand."

"I couldn't possibly understand what it's like to lose someone I love?" Harry was incredulous. Tears broke the dam of her lower lashes and slipped down her face.

"That's quite enough, Harry Potter!" Ginny exclaimed, rounding furiously on her husband when she realized Hermione couldn't continue the conversation due to her tears. "It's just flirting! Isn't that right, Hermione?"

"It's not even that!" Hermione was absolutely done with this conversation; anger was starting to replace her hurt. "He's the leader of the damned grief group you both forced me to attend. We get along – okay? He's intelligent and funny and I can tell him what I'm feeling, and _he knows_. He knows, you guys, because he's been through it, too."

Dashing her fingertips across her cheeks to dispel the wetness, she glared. "If you can't be supportive of me, Harry James Potter, you can go to hell. I will not put up with this from you. I have enough shit on my plate! If I'm ready to date, I'm going to date! _But_ _I don't think I'm ready! _So you have nothing to worry about!"

Harry looked momentarily stunned with the anger and vehemence coming from his longtime friend. His surprised expression slowly melted and became a sheepish embarrassment. "Hermione, I'm sorry," he said softly. "That was…what I just did…well. I'm sorry."

She gave a short jerk of her head to let him know she heard him. "I need to go if I'm going to have enough time to get everything done. You're still sure it's fine for the kids to stay?"

Harry looked affronted at her statement and Ginny looked very sad. "Of course, it's okay, Hermione. You're our family," Ginny replied softly.

"Right, then," Hermione answered. "I'll see you a bit after eight."

Without giving her customary hugs and ignoring Harry's outstretched hand as he attempted to make amends, she turned and flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco was a bit confused with Hermione's standoffish personality this evening. He had greeted her warmly, a cup of coffee ready for her. She had accepted the hot beverage with a word of thanks but hadn't met his eyes. And she had purposely avoided his touch, taking the cup from the bottom, instead of the middle. There was a frown on her face that made him uncomfortable. Something had happened.

Saddened by her demeanor, and being she was the last person to arrive that night, he went to place a hand at the small of her back as he had done a few times before. She flinched away from him as if he burned her. He pulled back quickly, startled. Still refusing to look at him, she quickly took a seat. There had only been three open; two were together and one was sandwiched between Greg and Alison. He was dismayed when she chose to sit away from him. They had been sitting together since she had started coming.

When group was wrapping up, he watched her quickly gather her things. "Granger, could you stay a moment?" he called. She halted in her tracks, halfway to the door_. Why is she trying to run off like this? Damn! _He had thought they were getting on so well. She gave a curt nod and moved over to the coffee cart. While he was chatting with some of the others, he attempted to watch her conspicuously out of the corner of his eye. She was fidgeting in a chair beside the trolly, alternately picking at her fingernails or pulling coils of curls straight only to watch them spring back into place – all the while chewing on her bottom lip. He thought the room would never clear out.

Hermione was watching him warily as he approached her. He carded a hand through his hair, noting he'd need a cut soon.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked softly, pulling a chair up to sit opposite her. "You're not yourself tonight."

Startled, she looked at him with wide eyes for a moment. Then they narrowed. _Yikes! That is not a look I want to be on the receiving end of - suspicion, anger, resentment._ He wondered what the hell he had done wrong.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Her voice was cool and much too calm for his taste.

"Um." He cleared his throat and then swallowed nervously. "I'm…I'm not quite sure what you mean." He was finally able to get out.

"How would you know I'm not myself?" she snipped, turning her nose up. "It's not like you really know who I am! _And_ you have _no_ right to call me Hermione. None at all. Granger, if you please."

Draco was caught off guard. He hadn't even realized that he had addressed her informally. Concern had taken away all but his inner-most thoughts. He wanted to comfort her. "Hey," he said softly. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I have no desire to upset you, but…well. Can you at least let me know what I did so I can try and fix it?"

Her mouth fell open with a wet pop, being she had still been nibbling her bottom lip in between chastisements. He had absolutely stunned her. If the situation hadn't been so damned serious, he would have laughed at her expression. Then his heart sank as her face crumpled, she quickly leaned forward to cover it with her hands while she braced her elbows on her knees. Curtains of her springy, wild, and frizzy curls fell around her, effectively blocking her from his view. The sob that choked out of her strangled his heart and made it hard to breathe.

Gods, why did her pain hurt so much? Then he forced himself to remember that her husband had only been gone months. He had felt on the edge of losing it all the time back then. _You're an idiot, Malfoy, _he clenched his fists in his lap, not sure what to do with the weeping witch in front of him. _I can't believe you were going to ask her out tonight. Honestly – what were you thinking? _

"Hey," he said softly, trying to shake off his own disappointment. "Hey, it's okay." He reached out to touch her but stopped himself. Something had happened to make her not want him near her. It probably wouldn't help for him to touch her. "Granger, it's okay." He sat forward in his chair, elbows on his knees.

She looked up for a moment and he reached out both hands to her, palms up. Sniffling, she looked from his hands to his face. Draco hoped he projected nothing but sincerity. After a moment, she put both her hands in his. He curled his fingers around hers and squeezed. The touch calmed him, and he watched in fascination as her nervous energy seemed to drain from her, her whole body going limp as her shoulders sagged with what appeared to be relief. "Do you need to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head, tears still spilling down her face. One curl was plastered against her left cheek, caught in the dampness of her grief. "I don't know if I can."

"That's fine," he told her. "It's okay if you can't. Do you need a hug?" His heart was racing. Gods, he just wanted to make her feel better. Seeing this strong, independent woman broken down like this was awful. She seemed to freeze for a moment, eyes flashing to his, then a fresh wave of tears started as another sob broke free from her chest.

He didn't wait for her permission. Standing, he pulled her up with him and wrapped her up in his arms. Heat radiated between them and the feeling of calm from before only deepened, a sense comfort surrounded him that he had never experienced before. He subconsciously tried to push the sensation out to her, wanting her to have peace and warmth. Needing her to know that, even if she felt she was breaking, he'd help her keep the pieces together. He wouldn't let her go. Hermione was stiff against him for a fraction of a moment, but then she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing her face in his chest.

Then, the torrents of anguish overtook her and she wept violently. Draco just held her, the two of them standing in the back of the small conference room. He felt her hands bunching the material of his shirt in her fists. Both of Draco's arms were wrapped around the middle of her back, but when her sobs didn't stop, he buried one hand in the hair at the nape of her neck and tried to soothe her more by brushing soft circles over the base of her skull. He had to mentally caution himself, because he desperately wanted to bury his nose into the hair on the crown of her head. Knowing that she would probably not like that at all, he refrained.

Damnit, but she was little; and fuck if she didn't fit in his arms like she was made for them. Gasping in a deep breath, her sobs seemed to dissipate a little. She stayed in his embrace though, sniffling as he continued to brush his fingers over the hair at her neck. After a couple of more moments, Hermione pulled away from him. He let her go reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to keep her there.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Her voice was husky with her tears. Her face was wet, her nose was dribbling and he snorted mentally._ Okay, _not_ a pretty crier._ That hardly mattered, though, she looked like she was feeling a bit better. "You didn't need that. How embarrassing," she whispered, not looking at him.

Taking a chance, he reached out and grasped her shoulder. "Stop," he told her firmly. Her eyes locked with his. The pain was deep, it was like looking into a grave. He sucked in a breath. "Granger, did something happen? Are your kids okay?"

She searched his eyes with her own. Not knowing what she was looking for, he concentrated on just showing her he was being genuine.

She broke their gaze. "My kids are fine," the answer came after a long, intense moment. "Harry and I had a fight. It was a misunderstanding, but it was still hurtful. I know he's heartbroken, too. He and Ron were so…so close." She became tearful again and he watched her with renewed respect as she dashed them away from her eyes and squared her shoulders. Grabbing a napkin off the coffee cart, she used it to blotted her eyes and then blew her nose. She tossed the napkin into the garbage and then used her wand to clean her hands while she looked at him again, then her eyes darted away.

"Malfoy, have you dated anyone since your wife died?" It was said in a rush, with pink cheeks and no eye contact. His heart stuttered for a moment. _Where is this going?_

The answer came slow. "Yes…" He paused, trying to gauge what she was looking for. Was…was she interested in him like he was in her?

She looked up then. "How long?"

_Ah…_ He was stupidly disappointed. "I went out on the occasional date here and there in those first two years. There were a couple of one-night stands. I never met anyone I wanted to pursue anything with. It was almost four years before I had what I would consider a relationship. It lasted a few months. There's been one more since then. Nothing's ever been…right."

He watched her as he spoke. Watched her face drain of the color she had left. Watched her hand touch her forehead as if she were getting a headache. "You waited four years before you had a real relationship?" She sounded so sad it made his breath catch.

"No. Listen, Granger." He ducked his head to catch her eyes again. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, tip her chin up. _Get a grip, man_. "You're ready when _you're_ ready! Is this what Potter and you fought about?"

She gave a jerky nod of her head.

"Have…have you met someone?" Merlin, was that his voice? It was positively strangled. _Gods, I hope she didn't notice that. Well, fuck. Maybe I waited _too_ long!_

"_No_!" It came out vehement and furious, with a touch of hysteria.

"Okay!" He held up his hands and took a step back, trying to placate her. He couldn't help the relief that flooded him. "It's all right, Granger. It would be okay if you had! There's nothing wrong with you not being ready and there would be nothing wrong if you _were_! Just breathe!"

Her eyes were wild, a single tear streamed out of the left one. She took his advice and sucked in a deep, strangled breath.

"Listen to me," he said again. "You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved and taken care of. Your children deserve to have a man in their lives that is going to respect you and care for them and be there for all of you. When you meet him – you _deserve_ to have him. I know I'm probably not the right person to tell you this, but I don't think for a minute that Weasley would want you to be alone for the rest of your life. You're so young!

"I saw you two that last year we were in school, after the war. He loved you, Granger. He wouldn't want you to shut yourself off for the rest of your life." By the time he finished his little speech, he was embarrassed and avoiding her eyes. _Merlin – why don't you just tell her straight out how she makes you feel? Could you be more obvious? _One hand was shoved in his pocket, the other nervously toying with his hair. She was quiet. Too quiet. He chanced a peek at her.

Hermione's face had smoothed out. While her eyes were still bright, the tears had stopped. Her chin was raised. She looked…triumphant. "You're right," she said softly. "Ron wouldn't have wanted me to be alone and sad. He would have wanted me to be happy."

Draco gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. No longer feeling self-conscious, he dropped his hand. She startled him when she stepped closer to him and pulled him in for another hug. "Thanks, Malfoy," she murmured against his collarbone. "I appreciate what you said."

Too surprised to speak, he just squeezed her back and nodded when she pulled away. She smiled as she turned away to gather her bag. "I'll see you next week?"

"Yeah, Granger. Next week."

* _Hands_. Written by Jewel Kilcher and Patrick Leonard. Performed by Jewel on her album "Spirit", 1998.


	10. A Moment

**AN:** We are sitting in beautiful Orlando, FL, USA right now. TOGETHER for the first time since we started talking over 2.5 years ago. Yesterday, we spent hours exploring Universal Studios the Magical World of Harry Potter, which was so cool. However, it has been utterly AMAZING to hug, and laugh, and share words with Snow in real life. It's bittersweet that we only have the rest of today left...tomorrow is going to come too soon. We finished this up today, and since we missed our Wednesday post, we wanted to get it up. Thinking next Weds (the 25th) for the next installment of MML. We're also working on some funny fluff in honor of our trip. Watch for that oneshot! Abiento! ~Lissa

* * *

**Chapter Ten  
****A Moment**

* * *

**_"_****_You treat life like a picture, but it's not a moment that's frozen in time. It's not going to wait 'til you make up your mind at all. So while this storm is breaking while there's light at the end of a tunnel. Keep running towards it, releasing the pressure that's your heartache, so this dam will break." *_**

* * *

**September 28****th****, 2012****  
**Draco hustled into the pub, eager to escape the sudden downpour that had caught him off guard. Blinking water out of his eyes, he cast a mirror charm on the front window and internally growled. His moments ago, painstakingly coiffed into looking carefree, hair was now plastered to his head_. This better be important._

Making his way to their usual booth, Draco was surprised to find his friend had already arrived.

"I lost."

"What?" he asked as he slid into the opposite side of the booth.

"I lost. Your Godson, Wilbur, is due any day, and I lost." Theo's resigned eyes peeked up despondently from his half empty whisky glass to meet Draco's amused ones. "Laugh it up-" His mouth clamped shut mid-sentence and he pulled his head back slightly, trying to see if his eyes were deceiving him. "What happened to you?"

Draco ran his hand through his hair. "Blasted monsoon outside. I forgot to place a shielding charm before I left the Manor."

Theo simply stared for a few seconds before confessing, "Blimey. I don't think I've seen you since Hogwarts with wet hair. And even back then, you usually had it slicked back or dried by the time you exited the bath." He moved his head in closer, his eyes squinting slightly. "Are those? Are those _curls_?"

Draco's hand immediately tried to smooth down the tiny, fine ringlets at the base of his neck that had plagued him since his school days. Hair gel had been the best way to control them until he was old enough to master charms.

"They _are_! Since when do you have curly hair?"

"Since when is this even a necessary topic of discussion?"

Rarely having the opportunity to tease his friend about anything, Theo jumped at the chance, not that curls were bad, mind you. But Draco had inherited his vanity from his father and silky, smooth, straight locks were a signature Malfoy trait. "You know you really shouldn't subdue them. Waves can be quite appealing to the ladies, remember Lockhart?" Suddenly his jaw fell open and his eyes grew wide. "Oh Salazar! What if she names him Gilderoy?!" His lips pursed as he seemed to strongly consider it. "She had a thing for him in school, if memory serves," he added under his breath.

Draco leaned back in the booth, a light shake of his head at the expense of his friend. "Why is this a surprise to you? You knew you were never going to beat her in this ridiculous 'who gets to name the kid' competition."

"So glad I floo'd you to come meet me and boost me up," Theo huffed.

"Cheers mate, what are friends for," Draco smirked as he lifted his freshly delivered firewhisky to his lips. He couldn't help noticing how Theo's eyes constantly kept glancing to his hair. Draco had inherited some Black family genes and one of them was clearly his Aunt Bella's wild locks. Unfortunately, it had gotten worse with age.

Theo's tone was bewildered, "Mate, your hair is…it's coming alive."

"Will you stop looking at my hair! You have much, much bigger concerns! Pansy is naming your son!" Draco only felt a twinge of guilt when Theo's face fell. Served the tosser right, after all. But when Theo stayed quiet just a bit too long, Draco offered in a sincere tone, "Theo, how bad can it be? So, she names my Godson. There are much worse things, you know." Draco cringed when he realized what he had just said.

Theo met his gaze and, knowing Draco so very well, didn't allow the conversation to become maudlin. "Of course, you're right. Barnaby isn't _that_ bad of a name. Or Enoch."

"Enoch?"

"Yeah, and Hector and Grover. The list goes on."

"I think we need another round of drinks," Draco said as he flagged the waitress with two fingers. She nodded and headed for the bar.

After a minute, the waitress arrived with their fresh drinks. Theo seemed resigned to his fate and changed the subject. "So, what's the latest with Granger?"

At the mention of her name, Draco felt like his gut tense with a rush of adrenaline. He had managed a full fifteen minutes without thinking about the witch and his reaction to her name was visceral. "No news, Theo. Nothing is going to come of it." Draco added, somewhat morosely as he leaned back in his chair.

"Have you asked her out?"

"Of course, not! You should have seen her two weeks ago. She was a wreck and was feeling guilty for even considering dating."

Theo's look was confused. "How did that topic come up?"

Draco shrugged lightly. "It's a common struggle within the group. People feel guilty for moving on. She's…well, I think she's interested in someone. She was harboring a lot of grief over the possibility of dating and I don't think she would be having those feelings if she wasn't considering someone specifically."

Theo's mouth fell into a silent, "Ohhh." He tilted his head and asked optimistically, "Any chance it could be you?"

"Me what?"

"You that she's interested in, obviously," he clarified with a roll of impatient eyes.

Draco scoffed. "No. Not a chance." But even Draco knew he didn't sound as convincing as he had intended. In truth, he had wondered. There was a connection between them that he couldn't quite identify. Their conversations were so easy, for the most part. The way she looked at him. The way he caught her watching him on occasion…only noticed because he was watching her, too. What's more, he felt an electricity when he was near her, particularly when they touched. The thrum of current was unsettling at times and soothing at others. He knew it sounded cliché, and he certainly wasn't going to admit that piece of it to Theo, but he wondered if she felt it, too.

"Just ask her out, already. You have nothing to lose. If she says no, you'll ask her out again in a couple months. It took forever to get Pansy to have dinner with me. Just don't take 'no' as a final answer."

"I'm not going to stalk her, Theo."

"Who said anything about stalking?"

Draco's right eyebrow cocked.

Theo nodded conciliatorily as he waved Draco off, "Okay, yes, I might have overdone it a bit with Pansy. But frankly, I still think she _completely_ overreacted when she called you that night."

"Theo, you were dressed in all black and hiding behind a tree in her backyard. And you had that huge Muggle contraption."

Theo huffed. "It was a music player and I was trying to be romantic. As I told you both, countless times, my Muggleborn friend from University said it would be romantic if I stood under her window playing music with it."

"Yes, your _American_ Muggleborn friend. I question your judgment on this on so many levels."

"This is not about me, and I'll remind you, I got the girl."

"Only because I had your back and didn't acknowledge how completely skeevy and over the top you were that night. It took me two hours to convince her you weren't a closet rapist or something."

Theo's eyebrows wagged, "Well, now she _likes_ it when I'm her closet rapist."

Draco made a face of disgust, "Please don't share with me your depraved bedroom antics, you may be my best friend, but we aren't that close."

"Whatever, just ask her out and stop trying to convince yourself of reasons you shouldn't." Theo's eyes jumped up to Draco's head, "Just make sure you aren't already related to her first."

* * *

Hermione sighed into her glass of wine, watching Rose and Hugo play with their cousins. It was a typical – yet so atypical – Sunday brunch at the Burrow. So many people. So much noise. Too much food. The laughter was both heartening and saddening. It was chaos, but it was also peace. Home. A home she'd belonged to for well over a decade. Almost two.

Home…but not home. It had been home because her heart had been born here and here it was no longer. For the billionth time that morning, tears sprung to her eyes and she growled internally. It was so frustrating, this grief that hit her when she least expected it. Grief group had let her accept that it was normal for her to feel this way and that this desperate sense of loss might not ever leave her. It was normal, they said…but she didn't want this to be her normal.

It didn't help that the vibe of the adults at the Burrow was very reminiscent of just after the war, with the loss of Fred. Seven Weasleys, down to six…now down to five. Two beloved voices silenced by the tyranny of Voldemort. Two of thousands, but a precious two.

And gods was she sick of the way Molly looked at her. It gave her a pit in her stomach every time. She knew the matriarch was devasted by the loss of her youngest son, and she appreciated that she was always there for Hermione whenever she needed her. But her incessant insistence that Hermione be surrounded by family as much as possible when the curly-haired witch just needed to be alone was maddening.

She had tried to leave over an hour ago but had been firmly blocked. Ginny had sent her a sympathetic look that told her she'd help Hermione get out of there, but it had yet to happen.

Suddenly, Fleur waltzed up to her and wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. The blonde put her lips to Hermione's ear and whispered, "Eef you are ready to leave, we can 'elp you now."

Hermione gave a smile with a slight nod as Molly's eyes had narrowed appraisingly on the two women.

"Hermione!" Ginny's voice called from the front lawn. "Come help me watch the kids on their brooms!"

A smile lit her face and she returned Fleur's sideways hug in silent thanks.

As soon as she was out the door, Hugo was hugging her leg and Rose had her fingers entwined with her mother's. "I wanna go home," the little girl whispered. "It's too busy here."

"Aunt Ginny is helping us escape so we don't hurt Mimi's feelings," Hermione breathed back. "We'll cut through the woods and I'll Apparate us home."

"Good."

They followed Ginny, Harry, George, Angelina, and the gaggle of cousins to the clearing the Weasleys always used as a Quidditch pitch through the trees. As soon as they were through, they received hugs and kisses from the adults and quickly cut through the footpath to the narrow roadway that led to Ottery St. Catchpole. In a blink, they retreated to the warmth of _home._

* * *

**October 5****th****, 2012**

"Pleeeaaase, Mum? Please can we go to the playground?" Rose begged, pulling on Hermione's arm. It was Friday. Work was done, tutoring was done, and she had finished the shopping and errands… _Why not? _After the war, a nice little playground and picnic area had been incorporated into the new layout of Diagon Alley, tucked near Gringotts. It was done in effort to bring some green into the bustling district and for there to be a family-friendly place for little ones to burn off some energy. It was a beautiful Indian summer day.

"Yes, Rose, we can go to the park for a while." Hugo and Rose both crowed with delight and started dancing around her in circles, giggling madly. Hermione felt a tug of a smile on her lips. It was so nice to see their joy. They had all been so sad for far too long.

It didn't take them long to make their way to the park. Hermione eyed Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour as they passed it, thinking that might be a nice treat. Maybe they'd even make a game out of it and have a bean feast for dinner. Having a fun, kid-friendly evening would be a pleasant way to start the weekend.

Rose and Hugo broke away from her when they were only about a hundred feet away from the park and she let them go with a watchful eye. So focused was she on her children, she didn't see the white-blond headed man sitting on the park bench, one arm stretched along the back, and feet crossed at the ankles until she almost sat on him.

"Granger!" he laughed, catching her elbow. "Watch what you're doing!"

She jumped about a meter into the air, hand flying to her throat when he touched her. _Oh my God! _Her heart started to pound at the contact of his skin on hers, tingles flaring to life. "Oh, my goodness! I'm so sorry. I…I wasn't paying attention!"

"No kidding," he teased, eyes twinkling merrily. "Good thing I'm someone you know, yeah? Sit, please."

Heart still galloping, she sat next to him on the bench, careful to leave about a foot of space between them. Even so, she could feel the warmth of his arm behind her, where it rested on the back of the bench. It brought back the memory of how it had felt for him to hold her the meeting before last. Her stomach did a little back flip. It had been seventeen days since the group session where she had cried on him afterwards, and three days since she had seen him last. This most recent session had gone much more smoothly – no giant wet spots on the front of expensive silk dress shirts was definitely a plus.

"Is your little guy here? Scorpius?" She scanned the playset. From what she could tell, they were the only ones there at the moment.

Hugo was on a swing on his tummy, propelling it with his feet. Arms outstretched, he screamed, "Weee!" at the top of his lungs as he lifted his legs and soared back and forth for a couple of rounds before using his feet to gain height again. Rose was climbing a ladder as she favored the large, twisting tube slide. There was no little boy that looked like Draco anywhere.

"He is…but he's _invisible_…shh." He held a finger up to his lips, which were twitching with a suppressed smirk. Hermione couldn't help it, he just looked so damned adorable with his eyes glowing with parental amusement and the smile he was trying to hide. She threw her head back and laughed deep. If she had been paying closer attention, she would have noticed the man next to her shudder at the sound.

Her daughter looked up at her with wide, surprised eyes. It didn't cut off her laughter, but it quieted it a bit. It had been a long time since she had let a true laugh through. She blew a kiss to the little girl, who automatically raised her hand to catch it before returning to her climb.

"Gods, she's adorable," Draco grinned at her. "Him, too." He nodded to Hugo. "How did you end up with a kid that has Weasley's hair color, but your…er…" He trailed off, cheeks going just a bit pink.

"With my bushy, springy mess? I know!" she exclaimed, chuckling again. She scanned the playground again, looking for Scorpius. Was he really invisible? Maybe Draco had disillusioned him to go along with the child's game. "Poor kid, right?"

"Nah." Draco shook his head. "Maybe lucky he's a boy and can keep it nice and short. Although, I like that you let yours grow long. Seems like the length weighs it down a bit? It's more controlled than it was in school."

Her breath caught in her throat when he reached out and plucked a curl that had come loose from her chignon. She tried to ignore the way her scalp tingled with pleasure where the curl pulled at the skin. _This is still bloody Draco Malfoy, Hermione. Pull yourself together. _She gave herself a mental shake. "That, yes," she smiled. "I've also gotten a bit better at managing it. Apparently, if Lavender Brown insists you use a relaxing charm enough times, you can perfect it to her impossibly high standards. It's always shot by the end of the day, though. Bushy, crazy mess, as usual." She raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to say something scathing. _Show me how much you've changed, Malfoy. Don't tease me. Maybe I'll start believing this act is real. _

To her astonishment, he did. "I've always liked your hair. It fits your personality – fierce, determined, wildly in control. Did anyone ever tell you that you look like a wood nymph? All you'd need to do is let your hair down and put a wreath of flowers on your head."

Her mouth dropped open as heat spread through her cheeks. Did he just…in a roundabout way…tell her she was pretty? "Er…no," she whispered. She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes and, noticing his cheeks were a bit pink, quickly looked away again. Was he flirting with her? Like, _really_ flirting? She was startled for a moment to see Rose's red head bent very close to a platinum blond one. Then relaxed when she realized it must be Scorpius. Where had the kid come from?

"Rose found Scorpius," she smiled, effectively changing the subject. The man beside her seemed to let out a breath he had been holding.

He responded with an amused tone. "So it seems." They watched in companionable silence as the two whispered excitedly before turning to Hugo, who was still amusing himself on the swing.

"Hugo! C'mere!" Rose cried out. Hugo quickly scrambled off the swing, thrilled his sister was paying him attention.

"This is Scorpius Malfoy," they could hear Rose say primly. "Scorpius, this is my little brother Hugo Granger-Weasley."

Next to her, Draco snorted.

"What?" Hermione tried to pretend she was affronted, but couldn't keep the smirk off her face. She knew exactly what he was laughing at. Rose was her mini-me in all but looks.

"Well…" Draco broke off, darting a look at her out of the corner of his eye. "You're taking the Mickey," he chuckled. "You know exactly why I'm laughing. Granger incarnate!" He was teasing her sweetly, eyes twinkling, smile firmly in place. A thrill ran through her. She hadn't had this kind of easy-going conversation about her kids and her life in months. Everyone else still treated her and the children with kid gloves.

"Yes, I do." She grinned.

"Hi Scworpeesus," Hugo mangled the blond boy's name perfectly and Hermione let out another giggle. She felt so light hearted at the moment.

"Hey, Hugo." Scorpius' voice was just a touch haughty, his nose turned up slightly.

Hermione couldn't help it anymore. She guffawed, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. It seemed that Draco was also finding humor watching their children interact with their parent's personality traits on full display.

Scorpius was a beautiful little boy, pale and blond like his daddy. _He must have his mother's chin and nose, though. Not as pointed as Malfoy's once was. _

"Let's play tag!" Rose directed. "I'll be It. I'll count to three, you guys run away!"

The two other children nodded eagerly and immediately took off as Rose completed her countdown. Then she ran after them, a huge grin on her sweet, freckled face.

"Hey," Draco leaned over a bit and Hermione's stomach turned over at his proximity. "Do you mind if I use the loo really quick? Will you keep an eye on Scorpius for me?"

"Of course!" Hermione was happy to help. Besides, putting some distance between them for a moment couldn't hurt. Her palms were sweating!

She watched him go with mixed feelings before turning back to the kids. Hugo was hiding under a platform of the playset while Scorpius climbed a ladder. Rose was close on his heels and he scrambled.

"Be careful, guys!" she cried out, then her heart dropped. In his haste, Scorpius missed a ladder rung and slipped. She was off the bench and halfway to him as he landed, but was not quick enough with her wand to cast a cushioning charm.

The little boy immediately started to wail.

* * *

_Holy shit, you're an idiot! "Has anyone ever told you that you look like a wood-nymph?" She must think I'm a complete moron. _ He sighed as he made his way into the public restroom off the edge of the park. He had been elated to see her children run onto the playground. Thinking to himself that getting to chat with her in a more normal setting would help bridge the gap that was between them because of his years of tormenting her when they were in school. Gods, he just wanted her to see him for the man he had become. The war had changed him, Astoria had brought him back to life, and her death had made him a new man. A new man that wanted a woman like Hermione Granger – strong, beautiful, obviously a wonderful mother, intelligent, powerful, and so much more. She was sophisticated, but not high on herself like the pureblood circle of women his mother continued to try and set him up with.

He was emptying his bladder in front of a urinal when he heard Hermione's frantic shout to be careful followed by Scorpius' scream. Foregoing bathroom etiquette, he straightened his clothing and bolted from the public bathroom. He was back across the playground in seconds. Nothing – absolutely nothing – could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him though.

Hermione had Scorpius in her lap, one arm around his back and the other gently smoothing his hair off his forehead. He was clinging to her, face buried in her neck as she whispered softly in his ear, soothing him the way only a mother can. Draco froze mid-stride, his heart bursting like a firework display. The breath in his lungs left him as though someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. Hermione met his eyes and gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

"Your daddy's back, love! I promised he'd be right back, didn't I?" she said clearly and loudly enough for all in their party to hear. Scorpius sniffled and peeked out from Hermione's shoulder before burrowing back in, his little arms looping around her neck. Draco took that as a sign that Scorpius was none too pleased with him for not being here in his time of need.

"Hey, Monster." His voice came out choked as he came to kneel next to the duo. He smoothed a hand over Scorpius' upper back. "What happened?"

"I fell." The little boy's voice was muffled in Hermione's shoulder. Rose and Hugo stood to the side, looking uncertain. Draco gave them a reassuring smile.

"He skinned his knee a bit, but he was a big, brave boy. Weren't you Scorpius?" Hermione prompted.

His son took the prodding and pulled away from her, flicking his eyes between the two adults. "I was, Daddy. She cleaned my cut and healed it all up!" He sounded impressed and Draco had to suppress a chuckle.

"Let me see, Monster." Scorpius shifted in Hermione's lap. Neither adult missed his reluctance to leave her arms and exchanged a surprised look. "Ah, I do see!" He smoothed the fresh pink skin over Scorpius' knee. "Well, Ms. Granger did a great job, didn't she?"

"She did! It didn't hurt at all." There was a short pause and then Scorpius searched his father's eyes. "Is this what it's like to have a mummy?" he asked softly. Draco was immediately rendered speechless; Hermione let out a quiet gasp of surprise. Their eyes locked, both sets sad.

The little boy didn't seem to notice the intense moment between the two adults at all. He continued on without hesitation. "I like it…" He looked up at Hermione. "You're nice, and your skin is so soft. You smell good, too. Can you be my mummy? I need one."

Tears sprung to Draco's eyes at the absolute surreal-ness of what was happening. He raised a fist to his mouth and cleared the emotion in his throat with a light cough while watching in stunned amazement as Hermione checked her obvious emotions. Obvious to an adult, that was. She exchanged another glance with him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"Oh, Scorpius. You have a mummy, and she loved you _very_ much." Draco's breath let out on a whoosh at her answer. He had to bite the inside of his lips in order to stifle the sob that wanted to break free. Of course, Hermione Granger would know how to perfectly answer such a delicate question.

"But my mummy died," Scorpius continued on, unmindful to the powerful shift in the atmosphere around him. "I need a new one."

"Oh, honey." Hermione gathered the little boy close again and Draco's heart leapt when she pressed a gentle kiss to his son's forehead. She was perfect with him. He had never met anyone who interacted so perfectly with his son outside of family. "No one can ever replace your mum. But how about this – I'd really like to be your friend. What do you say?"

This seemed to placate Scorpius quite nicely. He grinned at her broadly, nodding enthusiastically, and gave her one last squeeze. Like only children can do, he forgot what was happening instantly as he pushed himself up out of Hermione's lap and yelled, "I'm it! You better run!"

Rose and Hugo squealed with giggles and took off again, Scorpius in hot pursuit. This left the two stunned adults staring at each other in disbelief.

"That was…intense," Hermione whispered, her eyes falling away from Draco's.

"He's never said anything like that before, to anyone." Draco's voice was thick with emotion. "That…I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Hermione shifted herself onto her knees, pushing herself into a tall kneel and swiped her hands together to clear away the sand on them.

"Er…I guess I don't know." He lifted himself from his squatting position.

He was standing before her and held out a hand to help her up. She grasped it and he had to push back the longing in his heart. He just wanted to pull her up and into his arms and kiss her. Kiss her for what she had done for his son. For how she had made the little boy feel safe and cherished. For how she made him feel. Seeing a woman that wasn't his grandmother holding Scorpius in their arms with such tender care, with Scorpius responding so warmly to her, was exhilarating.

He stopped himself, though. Instead, he just squeezed her hand tight. She returned the pressure with a small smile. "He's a lovely little boy, Draco. He said thank you and everything. You're doing a really good job with him."

"Thank you," he whispered, touched. "You're such a great mum, Hermione. Your kids are very lucky to have you."

The blush that bloomed in her cheeks was lovely. She slipped her hand away from his and Draco let it go, a tingle of regret coursing through him.

_Ask her now, _a little voice in his head demanded. _Right now!_

"Would…Granger?" He wanted her to look at him when he did this. Wanted to see her reaction. She turned to him, a questioning expression on her face.

"I was wondering…well." _Fuck! Why is this so hard? You're never nervous, you idiot. Just ask! _"Would you like to get some coffee sometime?" Her eyes widened noticeably, and her face froze in surprise. He wished he could hear her thoughts.

She cleared her throat, and opened her mouth to speak. Then she closed it again as she continued to study his face. Draco was starting to feel horribly foolish. _Too soon, too soon. She told you less than a week ago she wasn't ready to date. Stupid, stupid._ Then she opened her mouth again.

"Like…on a date?" Hermione flushed when she said it. Oh! He didn't want her to be embarrassed. He should have clarified immediately.

"Yes, Hermione. A date…" he said slowly. "That's if…if you'd be okay with that?" Those blasted teeth came out to worry her lower lip. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty and trepidation. The silence dragged out agonizingly. He held his breath, hoping beyond hope.

"I'd like that," she finally responded quietly. Draco couldn't help the whoosh of breath that left him in a rush, or the ecstatic smile that crossed his face. _Yes! Yes! Yes! _The excitement and triumph he felt was intoxicating. She returned his smile shyly, eyes lowering to the sand.

"Tomorrow? Ten in the morning? I'll meet you wherever you'd like." _Yes, that's good. Keep it informal. A true first date. Coffee, get to know each other a little better. Talk about our likes and dislikes. If it goes well, ask her to dinner for the following weekend._

They finished making arrangements, Hermione saying that she would have to see if she could get someone to take the kids, but that she wasn't too worried.

"If you can't make it, just floo-call me. Malfoy Manor, West Wing Master." He told her simply. "If I don't hear from you by ten tonight, I'll assume you're coming. And if you do call and I'm not there, call out for Tilly. She'll take a message for me."

She agreed and then quietly asked, "We were going to get some ice cream when we were done here at the park." She glanced away from him, nervously. He stared at her, wondering where she was going to take that statement. She looked back up at him. "Would you and Scorpius like to join us? They seem to be getting on well." She pointedly turned her gaze to the three children, who were now all on their tummies on the swings.

Draco searched her profile for a moment, touched with her invitation. It had obviously been difficult for her to ask. "We'd like that, Granger."

* * *

*** "Feels Like Today" Written by Wayne Hector, Steve Robson Performed by Rascal Flatts from their album ****_Feels Like Today._**


	11. The Day Before You

**AN:** Just a short note to would-be flamers. We can handle a flame. They don't bother us. You'll never rile us - you might think you do, but you don't. We got one recently that eviscerated our writing style, complained about our grammar/spelling/punctuation mistakes, and basically told us we were too wordy. She also had a couple of things that she said that Snow and I were like - "You know what? She's right," and some slight changes will be made going forward due to her feedback. We thank you for your opinion, but felt it could have been approached in a much more friendly manner. We can handle polite concrit, we even welcome it. If done right.

However, we politely disagree to most of what this reviewer said and know that so do many of our readers. We ask that you (again, the would-be hater) keep in mind we do this for _**free**_. We _**are not**_ professionals. Nor are our BETAs editors. Our team does it's very best, but in the end...this is a hobby, not a job, and we are human. It will NEVER be perfect. So...yeah. Oh - and if you review negatively or rudely as a guest, it will never see the review wall. It will be deleted before it can get over there. So...ciao!

Now that that's out of the way - GRANGER ENCHANTED SURVIVOR's group on Facebook is having it's annual Enchanted Awards. We are so humbled to say that Master Mine: A Lesson in Love has been notminated in two categories: Best Smut and Best Work in Progress. There are also tons of other amazing stories, authors, and artwork that has been nominated across the board. Please take a moment to go vote (take out *): https*:*/forms*.*gle/*wnWsYGinKtBR3UVk8

That being said, Snow and I are hanging in there and surviving. I hope everyone else is safe and healthy. We are on track to release MML 19 next week and BR 12 the week after. Take care!

**BETA love**: RaynePhoenix2, sab81790, & thebeebeegun. We love you ladies SO much!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**  
**The Day Before You**

* * *

_"_**_Now you're here and everything's changing. Suddenly life means so much. I can't wait to wake up tomorrow and find out this promise is true. I will never have to go back to the day before you."*_**

* * *

**October 6****th****, 2012**  
Ginny had agreed to take the children Saturday morning, so that Hermione could meet her "friend" for coffee. She had said the word "friend" just like that. Implying she knew very well it was not just a conversation over coffee, but an actual date. When Hermione had dropped the kids off, she had watched her with knowing eyes and a smirk. Hugging her sister-in-law good-bye, Ginny whispered in her ear, "It's okay, 'Mione. I won't tell Harry. Not until you're ready."

Hermione had squeezed her harder for a moment before pulling away. "Love you," she told her friend, whose eyes softened perceptibly.

"I love you," she murmured. "Go have some fun."

Now Hermione found herself walking to the little café just outside of the Leaky Cauldron in Muggle London. At first, Malfoy had balked at her suggestion of venturing into Muggle-country. However, he understood her concern when she had told him she was worried about being recognized or, worse, photographed. She was not willing to have her friends and family find out about their coffee date in a wizarding tabloid. He agreed that it would not be a good thing. Especially after they had received a few raised eyebrows and whispers at Fortescue's the night before.

Hermione had dressed carefully on this cool, damp fall day. She wanted to look nice, but also wanted to convey that this was a casual affair. A simple first date. She'd donned a pair of dark brown leggings with a cream-colored silk camisole. Over the cami, she wore a navy cable knit sweater with a blazer collar that had a couple of big brown wooden buttons starting just below her bust. On her feet where a pair of tall brown, square toed leather boots that had brass buckles on each side. She had left her hair down today, how could she not after the compliment that it made her look like a woodnymph? She had used an application of Sleekeazy's in combination with the relaxing charm Lavender had taught her. It made her hair perfect. Her chestnut tresses were tamed, if only for a little while. Especially with the light precipitation floating down. The only jewelry she wore were a pair of simple crystal studs in her ears and her wedding set. Date or not, she was nowhere near ready to remove it. She hoped he would understand.

Hermione's heart started thundering in her chest as she neared the café. Malfoy was waiting outside, looking just about as nervous as she felt – and much more gorgeous. He had done well dressing for Muggle London, sporting a pair of dark-washed blue jeans with trainers and a deep, bottle green, V-necked sweater that looked soft and very expensive.

"Hi," she whispered when she was within hearing distance.

"Hey," he answered just as quietly. There was an awkward pause and then he gave a light chuckle. "We've been talking each other's ears off after meetings for almost the last six weeks. You'd think this would be easier, yeah?"

She breathed out a long, slow breath before answering. "I know," she murmured. "I'm really nervous." She chortled softly, slightly embarrassed by her admission.

"Me, too," Draco admitted, a tinge of pink staining his cheek bones. "It's just…I…" he closed his eyes before clearing his throat. After a moment, he opened his stormy greys once again. "I don't want to mess this up."

Hermione felt a catch in her throat at the raw vulnerability on his face. He obviously saw something in her that was worthwhile. Broken as she was, she couldn't begin to fathom what. "First date," she teased gently. "Perhaps we should leave the deeper discussions for the second?"

His face split into a dazzling grin. One that stole her breath. "Did you just ask me out for a second date?" His eyebrows rose in question and she found herself giggling. Giggling!

"Let's see how the first goes, shall we?" she mused, letting her tone stay light, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Right." Draco gave a short nod and reached to open the café door. "After you, m'lady," he joked, laying the charm on thick. Snorting, Hermione walked through the open glass door and scanned the cute little bakery shop. She had been here a few times before. It was owned by an elderly Italian couple and the baked goods were as scrumptious as the coffee. They placed their order, Draco insisting on paying. He raised his eyebrow at her when she ordered three white chocolate chip with macadamia nut cookies.

"They're my absolute favorite," she explained with a sheepish smile. "No one makes them like they do here."

They chose a small, round table right near the window when Hermione explained she loved to people watch. She apparently surprised him when, instead of sitting across from him, she scooted her chair to sit next to him. Both their backs were to the rest of the little shop so they could look out the window. She was just far enough away that making eye contact wouldn't be too difficult.

Easy conversation started. They had been wrong to be so nervous. Their tête-à-tête flowed effortlessly, comfortably. Draco told her about Malfoy Enterprises where he was Assistant CEO under his father, being groomed to take over the family business. He had two assistants himself, only because he refused to put in more than 45/50-hours per week. He explained that he knew he needed to be with his son as much as possible. Hermione lamented her understanding. She had cut her own hours back at the Ministry after Ron died, and was worried about what this would do with her career. She had been working her way up to take the head chair of her department when her boss retired in a few years and was concerned that her inability to work her normal 50-60-hour weeks would mean she would be passed over.

"They would be foolish not to have you as head," Draco insisted fervently. "I know that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is your passion. I know you love the little guy, the underdog. You are worth so much more than just that department, though, Granger. You could be the flipping Minister and make it look easy."

Hermione felt the heat of a blush of pleasure rise to her cheeks. Funny he would say that, being Minister had always been her end goal. She sobered slightly, though. A single mother could never be Minister. It would be too hard.

"That was always the hope," she whispered, surprised at her own admission. She had only ever told Ron of this particular dream. Draco looked at her with stunned eyes. "You know," she continued with a shrug, "make Department Head, make a difference, and be ready for nomination when Shacklebolt retired. Funny how life changes aspirations with the drop of a hat."

"What you do you mean 'changes aspirations'? You don't want to be Minister anymore?" He took a sip of his coffee, black with one sugar, watching her with a contemplative expression. "M.E. would back you."

Her mouth popped open in shock. "Your father hates Muggle-borns," she pointed out with a sardonic smirk.

"My father retires in three years," Draco corrected. "You're on a date with the next CEO of Malfoy Enterprises, and _he_ says ME would back you in the election." There was an extremely pregnant pause before Hermione could find her voice to answer him.

"That means a lot, Malfoy," she told him sincerely. "I'm afraid that my dream of being Minister died when Ron did. I can't be Minister of Magic and a full-time, single mum."

More silence. "You have time," Draco finally responded. "Just…don't give up on that vision quite yet."

She nodded her reluctant agreement. "Tell me more about Scorpius." Hermione changed the subject, pulling them away from the intense topic. "Is he being homeschooled? Do you have a one-on-one teacher for him or do you share a tutor with a group?"

The conversation turned to their children's antics and personalities and soon they were both talking animatedly. Hands flying through gestures as they told stories, tears forming in their eyes at things only children can do made them snicker hysterically.

"I haven't talked this much or laughed this hard in too long." She grinned at him over her third cup of coffee. They had been here for almost two hours. Draco had gone up and purchased half a dozen more of the macadamia nut cookies after she had insisted he try a bite. They had worked their way through the entire plate, just a few bites of biscuit were left on hers.

"Please don't take offense to this, Malfoy, but you're the last person I ever thought I'd have a satisfying conversation with."

Draco barked a laugh and sat back in the booth, eyes sparkling. She couldn't help but think of how much more handsome he was when he smiled instead of sneered. "To tell you the truth, I've always wondered what it would be like to have a normal conversation with you. 'Brightest Witch of Our Age' and all that."

She rolled her eyes. "You have no idea how much it sucks being labeled thus. Merlin forbid any of my ideas are crap. Merlin forbid I make a mistake. Sometimes it would be nice to just sit back and relax, you know?"

"Sure, I do," he shrugged. "I was born and bred into a life of high expectations. Do you have any idea how often I got yelled at by my parents because you were beating me in every single freaking class?"

"Was I?" Her smile was coy and pulled another chuckle out of him. A lick of heat swept through her belly. He had a beautiful laugh. "Where did you fall in the lineup at graduation?"

"Seriously? You don't know?" He let out an exasperated sigh, clearly not surprised by her admission.

"No, why?" She cocked her head to one side, puzzled by his reaction.

He shook his head, still laughing softly. "Did you ever pay attention to your competition?"

An elegantly arched eyebrow rose as she smirked. "I wasn't aware I had any competition."

He snorted. "You wouldn't be, would you? You were always just out to best yourself, weren't you?"

"I truly just wanted to do my best in school. To prove that I belonged." She raised her hand aloofly, shrugging one shoulder.

Draco was quiet for a moment, letting that nugget of information sink in. "You never had anything to prove," he finally answered. "You were always brilliant. Annoying as hell, sometimes, but brilliant." He grunted as she gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, then grinned ruefully at her. "I should know, I was on your heels for marks in every class we shared. Every once in a while, I would pull ahead of you in Potions, but mostly you just left me in the dust."

"You were second?" She looked surprised, and he wondered if he should be offended by that or not.

"I was. You received eleven NEWTs, all O's if I'm not mistaken. You took NEWT exams on a couple subjects you weren't even enrolled in, if I recall correctly. Care of Magical Creatures? Muggle Studies? I was infuriated when I found that out." He paused as she laughed. "I received ten NEWTs, eight O's and two E's in Defense and Charms. Charms have always been a little trickier for me. No one else got more than nine NEWTs and no one else got straight O's." He tilted his head at her, watching her take in this information with a faraway look in her eyes. Taking another sip of his coffee, he asked, "Are you really that surprised?"

"Yes…" She looked lost in thought. "Oh, but not about your grades," she amended when he looked slightly offended. "I'm surprised I never thought to look at how my other classmates were doing. It really was just all about doing my best."

Draco nodded. He believed that of her, she had always been entirely too focused on school, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. It didn't surprise him that she had never thought to see if anyone was on her heels in terms of marks.

"I never understood why you were put in Gryffindor," he admitted, watching his fingers as he twirled the ceramic mug in his hands. He met her eyes then. "I always thought you should have been a Ravenclaw. You were smarter than any in our year."

"Oh, Ravenclaw was seriously considered," she smirked, then the smile grew wider to show teeth. She watched him for a moment before admitting more. "As was Slytherin."

Both Draco's brows shot up in surprise. "What?" he sputtered. "Slytherin? That hat would have sent you to your own bloody slaughter?"

"I rejected Slytherin right off the bat because of what I had read. The Sorting Hat agreed with me. A Muggle-born in Slytherin would have been scandalous, to say the least." She outright laughed before continuing. "I believe the words were 'You would be amazing in Slytherin, you know. Intelligent, cunning – you have a brilliant mind. There hasn't ever been a Muggle-born in Slytherin, Miss Granger. You could bring about great change to Hogwarts. Great change indeed!' It was actually hard to refuse after he said that, but then the hat seemed concerned for my safety. Perhaps it had known what was brewing."

Draco's face was a mask of incredulity. "I wonder where things would have gone if you had been sorted into Slytherin. Hermione Granger, I don't think you'll ever cease to amaze me." His face settled into a small smirk when her cheeks went a bit pink. "Tell me, why not Ravenclaw?"

"I can't tell you how disappointed I was when that didn't happen. I thought maybe I wasn't as smart as I thought I was. That, when compared to other witches and wizards, I wasn't as bright as I'd hoped." She sighed. "I really felt I had something to prove after that night. In hindsight, though, the hat saw so much more in me than just a studious eleven-year-old. It truly is a sentient being, that blasted thing." She smiled sadly, thinking of Ron. "It put me exactly where I needed to be."

"What about your parents?" he asked. Her pallor changed slightly, some pink fading from her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Bad subject?"

"No! It's okay. You don't have to apologize," she forced a smile to her face. "My parents…well. I obliviated them just before the boys and I went on the run. Dan and Jean Granger are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins. They live in Australia. I tried to fix them after the war, but I couldn't. I had numerous skilled witches and wizards give it a go, as well, but to no avail. Apparently, my fear for their lives made my memory charm very intense. It couldn't be reversed without severely damaging their minds."

"Oh, Granger. That really sucks, I'm so sorry." He reached out and covered her hand with his. A shot of pleasure cascaded through him when she turned her hand over and laced her fingers through his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks, Malfoy," she gave him a tender smile. "I check up on them every couple of years. They are doing quite well. They have tons of friends, a nice little home. They're retired and live comfortably. I'm just glad they're happy and alive."

"You kept them safe," he assured her. He was disappointed when she untangled her hand from his, moving it to pick up the last bit of cookie.

He watched her pop it into her mouth and finish off her coffee. There was a crumb of biscuit stuck to the corner of her lips. He wondered if she knew just how tempted he was to lean over and kiss it away. Instead, he reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. She froze, and a bolt of electricity shot up his arm. He hadn't ever touched her like this before. A hug? Yes. A gentle touch on her back to guide her to her seat or through a doorway? Yes. This type of intimate gesture, touching her face or her lips? No. Not ever before.

And it was… Magical.

The pull to her was incredible.

When he saw her look at his mouth, his heart leapt. Was she thinking about kissing him, too? _Only one way to find out._ Slowly, giving her plenty of time to subtly refuse by turning her head or using a napkin or _any_thing, he leaned forward. Her eyes widened, but she didn't move away from him. He kept his gaze on hers, making his intentions very clear. The millisecond before his lips touched hers, her eyelids slid shut. With a small grunt of victory, he sealed his lips to hers.

The heat was instantaneous and intense. A crackle of energy seemed to zing through his body. Draco's eyes, which hadn't quite closed all the way, flew open when the current flowing through his skin burst into a rupture of silver light that framed their bodies for a split second.

He felt her shocked inhalation of breath through her nose a second before she pulled back from him, her eyes huge. He took a brief moment to look around the café, relieved to find it mostly deserted. Just a woman on a telephoney-thing in the far corner, her back to them, and the couple behind the counter, engrossed in a conversation.

"I…" She looked bewildered and frightened and he couldn't blame her – so was he. "I have to go." Pushing herself to stand, she grabbed her bag and bolted for the door as she slung it over her shoulder and across her chest.

"Wait, Hermione!" he called out, frantically pulling some bills from his pocket. Tossing them on the table for a tip, he ran through the door after the rapidly retreating witch. _Holy fuck, holy fuck. What the hell just happened? _"Hermione!" She didn't turn, just kept stalking forward to the Apparition point that was just ahead. "Hermione, wait!"

Draco caught up to her then, grabbing the crook of her arm. Hermione spun towards him and he flinched, prepared for her to deck him, or slap him, or _something_. What he was not prepared for, however, was for her to launch herself at him. One arm wrapped around his neck as she dragged his mouth down to hers, the other fisting in the front of his shirt.

He stilled, thunderstruck for a split second, before responding with zeal. With a low growl of need, he sank his hands into her hair and demanded entry past her lips. His tongue sought out hers greedily.

Once again, a spark of magic enveloped them. However, this time he didn't care about it, he just cared about the feel of her in his arms, his lips on hers, the way her tongue tangled tantalizingly with his. One, two awkward and demanding steps, and he had backed her into the building. The fingers of one hand slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, her nails clutching desperately, while the other hand bunched the fabric of his shirt and pressed half-moon indentations into his skin. Her slick, delicious tongue dueled hotly with his.

He couldn't believe her reaction – he couldn't believe his! The chemistry between them sizzled with a current to rival any lightning bolt. He reangled his head and caught her lower lip between his teeth, making her whimper and tighten the hand clinging to his chest. He groaned into her mouth at the feel of her nails biting into him. Gods, he wanted her. It didn't matter that they were standing in Muggle London, he could just take her up against this wall, right? She answered his sharp nip by gently nibbling on his upper lip. One of his hands left her glorious hair to wrap around the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as he continued to plunder her mouth with wild abandon.

Not thinking, not even beginning to reason with his actions and needs, he grasped behind one of her knees and pulled it up around his hip, sinking his pelvis into hers. She moaned her own desires back into his mouth and he thought he'd go mad. Rolling her hips into his, she elicited a sharp inhalation of breath from him. She answered the intense onslaught of his mouth on hers nip for lick. That was…until she didn't.

With a startled sob, she pushed him away and he was horrified to see tears spill down her face. "Hermione," he said softly, reaching for her. _Oh, Gods._ He knew how she was feeling. The first time he had done anything more than sit by a woman after Astoria died was a mixture of awful and wonderful. This had been so much more intense than anything he had ever felt in his life, however. A deeper connection by far; a much stronger pull. He almost felt as if he couldn't breathe without her. Now that he had tasted her, he didn't want to let her go.

"Draco, please don't." It was a pleading whisper. She turned her face, avoiding his eyes. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her voice was breathy and weak. One of her hands shoved against his chest, and he stepped back to give her the space she was wordlessly requesting. He didn't miss the use of his given name; it was the first time he had ever heard her say it. It left him feeling lightheaded and breathless.

"What you're feeling is okay." He tried to comfort her anyway, which made her curl into herself further. Another sob broke through and she pressed trembling fingers to her lips.

"It's not…it's not okay –" she broke herself off by covering her mouth with both hands and squeezing her eyes shut. "This is…so overwhelming."

"I will nev – "

"I have to go." She cut him off as she pushed away from the wall.

"Hermione!" he called after her, taking a couple of steps to follow. She whirled around.

"Please, _don't,_" she begged, her hands clutching her stomach. Her eyes were wild with emotion and wet with tears. "I just…I have to go. I'll see you…I'll see you at group on Wednesday. We…we can talk then. I just…I have to _think_. I just…can't… I have to go." With those words, she all but sprinted to the Apparition point. He was momentarily frozen to his spot before he started following her again. Hearing a distinctive _crack,_ he realized he had not been fast enough.

* * *

She stood in shock at where her desperate Apparition had taken her. She had been gone well over her promised two hours; Ginny would be missing her. Instead of returning to Grimmauld Place, she stood in the cemetery on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. In front of her husband's gravestone. Seconds after kissing another man. Moments after allowing him to pull her into his arms and all but ravish her on the streets of London. Moaning her grief, she sank to her knees. Fresh waves of shock and anguish crashed over her like torrents of ocean waves. The grief was mixed with an overwhelming desire to Apparate right back to the man she had left calling after her desperately as she fled.

She pressed her forehead to the granite and bawled with everything inside her, pouring emotion out when words wouldn't come.

It was a while before she calmed enough to grasp coherent thoughts. She fumbled with her bag, pulling out tissues to mop her face and blow her nose before letting out a shuddering sigh of fatigue. The fatigue that can only be felt after a good, hard cry. Pushing herself away from the stone, she noticed how the sun lit the small graveyard, making the granite of her Ron's headstone sparkle. Suddenly, she felt nervous and awkward.

"I don't even know what to say," she whispered. Tears came again, making her vision blurry. She dashed them away with the back of her hand. "I'm so…I'm so sorry, Ron." Her breath hitched and more tears streaked down her face. "I feel like I'm cheating on you. I just wish you were here. I want you to come … to come home. Oh, gods." She covered her mouth with one trembling hand as she looked out over the hill she was on. "Please forgive me. I don't know why it's him…it doesn't make any sense."

The silence of her mind was deafening. The fact that her own conscience didn't answer her felt damning. _What have I done? How could I have let this happen? Why did I accept this date? Why am I so irrevocably drawn to him? Why does his touch affect me the way it does? Why did his kiss feel like __**coming home**__?_

She gasped aloud at the last thought, her heart plummeting to her feet. Ron was home. The children were home. Draco… Draco sodding Malfoy could _not_ feel like coming home.

"I have to go," she sobbed out, instantly devasted. "I'm…so very sorry. I love you. I will _always_ love you."

She Apparated into her back yard. Quickly moving through the house, she headed straight to the kitchen hearth and threw some floo powder into it. "Ginny?" she called out sticking her head in the green flames.

Ginny appeared quickly. "Hey!" she exclaimed with a grin. "I was wondering where you were. Date go well?" She gave Hermione a big grin that faded quickly when her friend let out a strangled sob.

"Hermione!"

"Where are the kids and Harry?" Hermione said urgently, desperately trying to stop her tears.

"Upstairs, in the playroom. They were putting together some puzzles the last time I checked in on them.

"Can you come through? I really need to talk," Hermione begged.

"Of course! Just let me tell Harry and I'll be right there." Ginny disappeared and Hermione pulled herself out of the flames. Making her way to the living room, she sank down on a worn davenport. She tucked her feet underneath her and buried her face in her hands.

_Oh, Gods._

She was confused. There were just too many feelings warring inside of her. Attraction, lust, desire, guilt, unfaithfulness, worry, regret, need, and the list went on. Mostly, though, she was terrified of how her body had responded to his kisses. She had felt a fire ignite in her belly, a heat singe through her veins. His touch left a trail of molten hot desire on her skin. When their tongues touched, electricity sparked through her. Her breathing sped, her heart rate accelerated. She _wanted_ him. Desperately. It was an ache deep in her heart – deep in her womb.

Any normal person would wonder why that bothered her. Any normal person would tell her she was foolish for running away from it.

However, any normal person would not have felt her desire. Her elation at having been touched so deeply after too long. A normal person would not have understood that one second, she was excited for him to be leaning in to kiss her, even though she was nervous; the next minute she was desperate for him. Wanting to strip him of every stitch of clothing. Wanting him buried inside her. Wanting to never, ever let him go. Her heart leapt at the remembrance. She still wanted him with a yearning she had never experienced before. It absolutely terrified her.

The want had been quickly followed by her surprise – and then her guilt. These feelings and yearnings had not been normal for her.

Ever.

Never.

She had loved Ron; they'd had passion. She felt warm and gooey inside when he kissed her. Their sex life had been wonderfully satisfying… And, oh, she missed him so very much. She would give anything to have him again. To feel his fingers in her hair as his lips lingered over hers. To have his hands encircle her waist, to feel his mouth between her thighs, driving her higher and higher until she shouted his name with the release of her need.

Her and Ron's love had been sweet, comfortable, easy, and fulfilling. When Draco had kissed her, though.

_Oh, Gods. _

It had felt like her world had righted on its axis. Like when you finished a thousand-piece puzzle to find one piece missing – _he_ was that missing piece. He would make her whole. It had felt as if everything she had been missing for longer than she had ever known had fallen into place. Like everything was going to be okay. As if, as long as they were with each other, nothing could ever be wrong again.

That he could always fix it.

That _they_ could always fix it.

One didn't get those feelings from only _lust_, did they?

Her sobs were coming full force. She was so overcome with emotion. Tumultuous feelings poured through her being. Her chest heaved with the force of her upset. That's how Ginny found her, curled into a ball, blubbering nonsensically. Ginny watched her friend for a moment. She was concerned, but realized Hermione needed the release. She moved through the living room to the adjoining water closet to collect a box of tissues. Settling on the couch next to Hermione, Ginny handed her friend a large wad of Kleenex and wrapped her arm around her shoulders to pull her into her side. She kissed the top of Hermione's head and held her until the sobs turned into soft, hiccupping breaths.

"Was it that bad?" Ginny asked when Hermione had calmed enough to blot her face. Hermione laughed before a fresh wave of tears started. She blew her nose and caught more tears with a fresh tissue.

"Oh, no," Ginny whispered, startled with the realization. "Was it that _good_?"

Hermione had just started to calm for a second time when Ginny's words threw her back over the edge. She nodded, more weeping rendering her unable to speak.

"You have to tell me who, 'Mi," Ginny insisted, rubbing her friend's back soothingly. "I know that I know the person. I know you're not telling me for a reason, but I need you to tell me now."

She watched as Hermione nodded again, still unable to control her crying. "It's bad, Gin. So bad. No…" She hiccupped and blew her nose again. "No one is going…going to understand." She let out a shuddering breath. "I don't understand. I just…I can't believe this is ha-happening."

"Hermione, you're starting to scare me. It honestly can't be that bad."

"It is. Promise me you won't be mad." When Hermione met Ginny's eyes for the first time, the redhead sucked in a breath. Her friend was desperate for validation and looked utterly terrified.

"I don't care who he is," she said firmly. "If he's good to you, and you like him, I know I will, too."

"D-don't make promises you might not be able to keep," Hermione whispered, finally calming enough to speak normally. She pulled another tissue out of the box and wiped her blotchy face. Silence stretched, and Ginny let it go on for a few minutes so Hermione could gather the courage she needed for this confession. A confession Ginny was sure would be shocking.

She was right.

"It's Draco Malfoy."

Ginny was positive she heard wrong. "Come…again?" she said uncertainly.

Hermione met her eyes, pleading with Ginny to understand. "Oh Gods, Ginny. It's _Draco Malfoy_." She burst into tears again and Ginny could do nothing but sit there in stunned contemplation.

"How?" she said finally, incredulously.

"He's the leader of the grief group," she ground out between sniffles.

"Oh." Ginny sounded surprised for a moment. "I think I remember that. I remember when Astoria died, that is. It was in the society pages in the Prophet. Wow, he never remarried?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, he hasn't. He loved his wife. He told me it was almost four years before he had a serious relationship." She paused; her breaths were starting to become steadier with the conversation. "Oh, Ginny. No one is going to be okay with this."

"Just put an end to this, Hermione."

Hermione looked up, hurt crossing her face. She had been so hopeful Ginny would be supportive.

"No! That's not what I meant. I mean, put an end to this self-torture," Ginny reached and covered the curly haired witch's hand. "If you like him that much, by all means, date him. All I'm saying is you have to be sure he's something special before you say anything to _any_one else." She watched relief flood Hermione's face. "I mean…bloody hell. He's fucking gorgeous, isn't he?"

Hermione started to laugh through the tears that just wouldn't seem to stop. "You're…you're not m-mad?"

"Oh, of course not!" Ginny scolded. "I'd totally hit that if I were single!"

"Ginny!" Hermione was slightly affronted. "I'm not 'hitting' that!"

Ginny started guffawing. "Being it was your first date, I would hope not! He's really the leader of the grief group? I can_not _see that at all."

"He's incredible at it." Hermione's voice grew soft. It was gravely with her tears, but Ginny could hear the admiration in it. "He's _so_ different from when we were kids. Kind, thoughtful, gentle. Oh, Gin!" she snorted, her heart raced with thoughts of him. She turned to face the redhead more fully.

"Yes, he's bloody beautiful. But…it's not just physical attraction. I mean, yes, I'm attracted to him, but it's so much more than that. Something completely beyond my control. I love being with him, talking to him. Everything is just so…easy…with him." Her face crumpled again as she reached for another tissue as her voice started wavering again. She held herself in check a bit better this time, though. "Time seems to just disappear when we're together. We talk about everything and nothing. It's…surreal. And too fast. Everything is too fast."

Ginny was quiet, absorbing what Hermione was telling her. If she didn't know any better, she would think the witch was in love with the man she was talking about. "Draco-fucking-Malfoy?" It was said as an unbelieving question, as if she was asking for confirmation. Hermione validated the question with an equally incredulous nod. "You could push me over with a bloody feather." Ginny shook her head, disbelieving. "Did he kiss you?"

Heat flushed her cheeks.

"Ooo! I take that as a resounding _yes_!" Ginny's eyes widened comically. "How was it?"

"Life-altering."

"The Day Before You". Written by Matthew West. Performed by Rascal Flatts on their album **Feels Like Today** released in 2004.


	12. Stand

**AN: We are humbled to announce that Master Mine: A Lesson in Love has moved forward to a finalist position on the Granger Enchanted Awards for Best Smut and Best Work In Progress. We are aligned with some truly amazing stories in both of these categories, as are there many other amazing fics in all the other categories. Please take a moment to follow the link below and vote for your favorites - whether they be ours or not! Thank you so much!**

**We continue to wish you and yours well during these trying times. All our love, Lissa and Snow  
**

(Take out *): https*:*/forms*.*gle/*Y9c5ewDk7HTMyKLU6

* * *

**BETAs**: RaynePheonix2 - Brit Picker; sab81790; thebeebeegun  
Thank you ladies - so very much!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve  
****Stand  
**

* * *

**_"_****_Life's like a novel with the end ripped out. The edge of a canyon with only one way down. Take what you're given before it's gone. Start holding on – keep holding on." *  
_**

* * *

**October 6****th****, 2012**

"You think _what_ now?!" Theo Nott's mouth was hanging open in utter astonishment.

"I think I soul bonded," Draco repeated patiently, unable to believe those words had just come out of his mouth. If anyone had come to him with this conclusion, he was sure he would have reacted the same way. When the silence had dragged out a bit too long, he peeked up to see his friends giving each other concerned looks.

"Are you sure?" Pansy held a sleeping five-year-old Emma Nott against her shoulder, staring at Draco with wide, unbelieving eyes. "I mean, what you're proposing is rather extraordinary"

"Yes, I realize that. Thank you for stating the obvious, Pans."

Nonplussed by his outburst, Pansy prodded. "Okay, start from the beginning, I assume you went out with Granger. You were actually out with her?"

"Obviously," Draco responded with a roll of his eyes."I finally asked her out, she said yes and now my fucking life is balls-up," Draco told her with a touch of annoyance.

Pansy let out an exasperated huff of indignation. "Okay, okay. No need to be an arse." She kissed the forehead of the sleeping child who had been running a fever throughout the morning. "I'm going to put Emma down and check on the other two brats. I'll be right back and we'll talk this through. Just calm down."

"Soul bonded?" Theo muttered, crossing the library. Draco had basically dragged them to the room the moment he had come barreling through the front door of Nott Manor. "I know we have some books on that over here somewhere." Draco watched his life-long friend start rummaging through a couple of bookshelves while he answered Pansy.

"Sorry, I don't mean to sound unappreciative, I'm just losing my mind, that's all," he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. When he opened them it was to find her watching him with an understanding smile. They stared at each other in quiet understanding for a minute. Seeing her so happy...so pregnant. Every now and then, his curiosity led him to wonder how different his life would be had he married this woman. But it would have never worked. They would have killed each other. Besides, she and Theo were so perfect for each other it was almost eerie.

The petite blonde left the library and Draco's attention was brought back to Theo as he dropped a stack of books on a research table. Both men flopped down into chairs.

"Tell me again what happened," Theo asked, running his finger down the table of contents page in the first book he opened.

"When our lips met, there was a shot of magical energy, it actually puffed her hair," Draco answered, almost too calmly. "Then a shimmer of silver light enveloped us. She pulled away after that. She was upset." Draco let out a breath and collapsed into the leather wingback chair. "I can't blame her. It was…unexpected and slightly terrifying."

"That bad of a kisser, are you?" Theo teased, an easy grin crossing his face as he looked up at Draco.

"Hardy, har, har," Draco rolled his eyes, but internally he was thrilled his friend was helping him. Theo never let him down. "No. I'm an excellent kisser, if you must know. I think her distress came from it being the first time she's kissed anyone other than her dead husband, whom she was with for over fifteen years. People do tend to get a little emotional in times like that." He shrugged; his tone less sarcastic at the end.

That reminder wiped the smirk off Theo's face quickly, and Draco immediately felt bad for his sour mood. This wasn't Theo's fault, and Draco knew he shouldn't take it out on him. His friends had been more than supportive throughout this entire mess with Granger.

The feelings he was experiencing were no one's fault – at least he didn't think so. He was a bit of a mess. The moment Hermione had Apparated away from him, he had felt as if half of his heart went with her. It was taking a lot of effort not to figure out where she lived and turn up on her doorstep.

"Sorry, mate," Theo said quietly. "This is all just a bit... odd. I'd forgotten about Weasley. I mean, I knew he died and all…it's just…I haven't really been dwelling on it. You know?"

"No, you don't have to apologize. Bloody hell. I feel really off balance." He paused before continuing. "When you add the magical spike, or whatever it was, on top of her emotions - it's really no wonder she ran." Draco leaned back in the chair and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a deep breath. "There's no way she didn't feel the magical current, either, it was intense. It happened both times we kissed, but the silver glow only happened the first time. Her eyes were closed, I don't think she saw it."

Theo nodded seriously, taking in what Draco had to say. He reached up with one hand to scratch the top of his head while he thought. "Tell me in what way you feel off balance," he said finally, looking up when Pansy came sauntering back into the room. She went right up to her husband and kissed him sweetly on his upturned mouth before Theo assisted her down into his lap and settled his chin on her shoulder, continuing to scan the book he was looking at as his hands absently rubbed Pansy's pregnant belly.

"Where are the twins, Pans?" Draco smiled at the blonde.

"With Pickle," Pansy grinned. "They love that damn elf. He was the best thing that ever happened to this family."

"He's a good elf," Theo agreed. He turned to Draco. "I need you to tell me what you're feeling. You said, 'off balance.'"

"Oh, yeah," Draco shrugged. "I'm uncomfortable and feel edgy. The moment she Apparated away from me, it was like I was suddenly panicked that she wasn't there."

Theo and Pansy exchanged surprised looks, two sets of eyebrows disappearing into their hairlines. "What?" Draco sounded maddened.

"Well, dear Draco," Pansy slipped off her husband's lap and plopped into the chair next to him. She reached for the next book on the stack and opened it. "It sounds like you're in L-O-V-E, _love_."

Draco swiped the air with a hand as if to say _do shut up_. "Do I like her? Yes. A lot. We've only been on one date, though, I'm not in love with her."

"This says differently," Theo answered softly. Flopping the book he had been scanning out in front of him, he pointed to a passage. Draco took the hardcover and quickly scanned it.

**_Soul Bonding_**_is a rare occurrence, happening infrequently throughout the centuries. Currently, as I write this section on soul magic in 2007, there are four couples alive today that are soul bound. There hasn't been a documented case of soul binding in Great Britain since 1791._

_There are many things not known about soul magic, but tales of this rare binding remain consistently documented throughout the eras. All documented cases match the recounts of those four couples I interviewed personally._

_People who are destined to be soul bound and who find each other can have no affinity for each other if they spend no time together alone. One of my interviewed couples said they had known of each other at Mahoutokoro but were three years apart in age and never ran in the same social circles. Their bond did not occur until five years after the younger of the couple graduated from school and met again at their respective workplace._

_Therefore, it is presumed that soul binding will only take place when the two souls that are meant to be together find themselves in close, intimate proximity. Those who have been bound in the past report an affinity with one another once a relationship is established. Ease of conversation, companionable silences, and common interests tend to be the first things noticed._

_The actual soul bonding occurs when two soulmates are intimately connected, be it a kiss or intercourse. When couples share a kiss, a reverberation of magic is felt. A pulsing silver glow follows. Of couples who do exchange a kiss, all documented cases report that physical intimacies occurred within a fortnight as the need to be with each other is acutely physically painful. Of the four couples I've spoken with personally, three were intimate immediately following their first kiss. The fourth couple was intimate within one week._

_Once physical intimacies are established, a soul-bound couple will experience a more intense surge of magic followed by a golden glow. The tie that happens at this stage is as strong as a magical marriage bond. Core magic is immediately entwined, and emotional ties are interwoven solidly._

_Soulmates report a desperate need to be within proximity to the other and are only truly calm when they are touching, especially when the connection is new. A passionate, fulfilling love is also a consistent documentation._

Draco stopped reading there, stunned disbelief filling him.

Pansy's teasing smile fell off her face when she saw the color drain from Draco's complexion. She glanced back at Theo, who met her glance knowingly. The gravity of the situation hit them all full force. They both looked back to Draco.

Theo spoke softly. "Draco, you need to tell her. She needs to know what's going on."

Pansy nodded. "Being Muggle-born, she probably has no _idea. _If she's going through what you are…" she trailed off a moment before continuing. "She's probably freaking out if she's having the same feelings you're describing."

"From what that says," Theo started, nodding to the text Draco was staring at in disbelief. "She's feeling exactly what he's feeling."

Draco closed his eyes, horror struck. "Oh Merlin, how do I tell her this? If this had happened to me four months after losing Astoria, I would have been devastated. There's no way I would have accepted it." There weren't many things that scared Draco but telling Hermione Granger she was soul bound to him just topped his list. "I don't know how to tell her."

It started to become difficult for him to draw a breath as panic set in. He was crazy about this witch. Had been crazy about her since the moment she had shown up in his life again. Apparently, he'd been aware of her all his life, if the commiserations with Theo and Pansy over the past couple of months were accurate – and he knew they were.

Had it all been their bond? How was she going to handle this information? _Fuck!_ How was he supposed to tell her that they were soulmates when she had just lost her husband?

"Okay, mate, calm down," Theo was alarmed as he witnessed his usually collected friend start to fall apart. "From how it sounds, there's really no fighting this. She's going to be as drawn to you as you are to her."

"And that's all fine and dandy, Theo! But there are _children_ involved here, too! How are _they_ supposed to understand this? And our families? Oh, Gods. My father will lose his ever-loving mind!" Draco exclaimed, tears sprung to his eyes, shocking him. He touched one eye hesitantly and pulled his fingers back, staring at the moisture curiously. He hadn't cried since after Astoria died. "Fuck," he hissed, a hand flying to settle over his sternum.

Anguish rose in his chest. Anguish? He wasn't feeling anguish. Why would he feel like this? His eyes continued to swell with tears. Why the fuck was he crying?

Then it hit him…

Was he feeling _her_ emotions? He had no reason to be feeling these things. He was awed and nervous - scared even - but not grieving. He wasn't in pain. Was _she_ in this much pain? The ache in his chest rose tenfold. His breaths started to come in shuddered gasps. Bloody hell, how did someone _survive_ a feeling like this? He felt as if his chest was going to cave in.

"What's wrong?" Pansy stood in alarm as tears slipped past his eyelashes and splashed down his face.

"I don't bloody well know, do I?!" Draco roared, pushing away from the table as he swiped at his face. One hand clutched at his chest, trying to stave off the discomfort. "I think it's Hermione, I think I'm feeling what she's feeling."

"Put up your Occlumency shields, Drake," Theo suggested calmly, watching his wife round the table and start rubbing Draco's back in slow, soothing circles.

Draco did as Theo suggested and smoothly pushing his shields into place. Immediately the torment he had been experiencing disappeared and he was just left with his nervousness and fear. "It worked," he said quietly. His oldest friends looked at each other, concern marking their faces.

"This changes things significantly…doesn't it?" Pansy whispered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco stood outside a pretty little two-story home on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. It reminded him of Hermione, and he gave it a small smirk. Its siding was a beautiful, steel-blue with navy shutters and was trimmed with white windows, soffit, facia, and gutters. A grey brick chimney jutted out from a slate capped roof. The front door was bright red and inviting and held a large wreath of autumn leaves, acorns, pinecones, and gourds. The house had a whitewashed wraparound porch where a bench swing hung, and there were autumn flowers – mums, if he wasn't mistaken – everywhere in a rainbow of colors. They were in window boxes, porch rail boxes, and ceramic pots. A fading honeysuckle filled a trellis off to one side of the porch, leaning up against the house. Rose bushes encircled the house in front of the porch and lined the tiny walk. A perfect, white picket fence lined the small, immaculately kept lawn.

Draco stared at the house; his hands shoved deep in his pockets. It had only been hours since he had seen her, and the ache in his chest – the one that demanded her presence – had not diminished even a little. He wondered if she was struggling the same way. He had been maintaining his Occlumency shields to block her emotions from him, he wondered if they also blocked his own from her.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the gate on the fence and slowly made his way to the front door. He had just raised his hand to knock when the door was pulled open, narrowed brown eyes focused on him and he felt a shudder of nerves cascade down his back.

"Mrs. Potter," he said softly in acknowledgement. He was very relieved to find that someone was with her. "Is Hermione home?"

Ginny didn't speak, just continued to stare at him through her narrowed, judgmental eyes. He really couldn't blame her. If any of the Gryffindors he had gone to school with had shown up on his doorstep, Draco would have probably given them the same look. After a few uncomfortable moments, Ginny's face finally smoothed.

"She's upstairs taking a shower. She's been quite emotional, I'm trying to help her calm down," the redhead answered. Her voice was gentle but guarded.

"Good," he answered firmly. "She needs to calm down. She was almost hysterical. What about Rose and Hugo? Are they here?" He knew he sounded worried.

Ginny looked momentarily surprised before she took a deep breath. Pausing to lick her lips, she answered him, "Rose and Hugo are with Harry at Grimmauld Place." Her voice sounded just a bit suspicious. "I'll be going back to help him in a little while. I told them that Hermione was sick, and I was going to stay with her until she was settled. We're keeping the kids away, so they don't get 'ill'. Hermione doesn't want them to see her like this."

_What a fabulous fib,_ he thought with a small quirk of his mouth.

"Ginny?" A voice called tentatively down the stairs. "Ginny – I know this is really odd, but…" Hermione trailed off.

"What's up, 'Mione?" Ginny yelled back.

"Is Draco here?" Her tone sounded…scared, her voice was trembling.

Ginny looked at Draco in shock. She hadn't even let him in the house yet, there was no way Hermione could hear him. Draco's nervousness overtook him, and he reached up to run his hands anxiously through his hair. He felt calmer just knowing she was on the same piece of property he was, but he could hardly wait to see her – touch her. To have her physically near him. On the flip side of this, he was terrified by how she might react to his little tidbit of information.

"Yes," she called back in a clipped tone. There was a small gasp from the back of the house.

"He is?" Her disembodied voice trailed down to them; a tinge of distress evident in it.

"He just showed up on the doorstep." Ginny moved back and indicated for him to enter the house. She gestured pointedly to a comfortable looking sitting room, making it abundantly clear he was not allowed to follow her. "I - I need to get back to her. May I tell her why you're here?"

"Um…we…er." Gods, how was he supposed to answer that? He hated the slightly desperate edge to his voice as he answered. "I just need to talk to her for a few minutes, if…if she'll see me." Auburn eyebrows rose at that statement. "It would be good if you stayed with us," he added in a rush. Those brows rose higher yet.

There was an awkward silence before she turned suddenly and stalked out of the room. The several long, uncomfortable minutes left Draco lost in his worry as he stared around the living room. The couch and loveseat were brown, overstuffed leather and obviously well-loved. There was a wooden rocking chair in one corner with an end table at its side and a little round footstool in front of it. The table held a stack of books. Some open, being held to certain pages, others obviously bookmarked, and dog-eared. Beside the chair was an overflowing basket of multi-colored yarn and knitting needles. Draco gave the little corner a small smile. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was positive that it was her little niche.

He took in a large, flat screened…telly? He was pretty sure that's what Muggles called the moving picture machines. It was encased on each side by floor to ceiling bookshelves that were jam packed. Gods…she would love the library at the Manor. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face. Instantly, he couldn't wait to show her. He continued to scan the room and his gaze fell on a wall of photographs. His stomach leapt, and he couldn't help the pull that made him walk over to take a closer look.

There were dozens upon dozens of photographs. Many from their Hogwarts days of the Trio together. His heart went into triple time when he found one of Hermione on what must have been her wedding day. Her unmanageable curls were piled on top of her head around a delicate looking tiara, her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. The secret smile that kept repeating on her face spoke of unmitigated joy and happiness. She was absolutely breathtaking. Draco found another photograph from her wedding day of her and Weasley together, whispering in each other's ears and kissing. He was pleasantly surprised to find no stab of jealousy – he was just happy she had been so happy. There were more photographs of the happy couple and their children as they grew, many of them as a family, more of them with their friends and extended family, and a couple of shots that were still and had to be of her parents.

The last photo his eyes fell on must have been done professionally – like the wedding portraits – and absolutely stole his breath away. It was of Hermione, very obviously pregnant. She was laying on her back on what looked like white fur, her body angled slightly away from the camera. Her back arched and her knees were bent so that her feet were flat on the floor. Her lovely face was tilted to the lens, her rambunctious curls fanned out all around her. She was smiling, her eyes twinkling with happiness. She was wearing a pale pink lace top that left her shoulders bare, but covered her breasts, and matching shorts that went about six inches down her slender legs. Her smooth, pale stomach rose gorgeously with one hand cupped protectively around it. He had to swallow back his emotions at seeing her thus. An image of her ripe with _his_ child filled his mind. O_h, Merlin_. He was truly done in by this witch, nothing and no one would be able to replace this feeling. His Occlumency shields fell without his permission, he was too overcome with intense emotions to maintain them.

Suddenly, Draco's heart accelerated, and he knew she had entered the room. He turned to her, an overpowering feeling of relief crashing through him. She was dressed in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair hung in wet ringlets around her face. He could see the look of relief mirrored in Hermione's expression, though it was mingled with a slight mien of trepidation.

"You're okay?" he whispered. It took every ounce of strength to keep himself from striding across the room and pulling her into his arms. He knew that would only lead to fervent kisses and him carrying her up the stairs to ravish her – Ginny Potter be damned. He shoved his hands into his pockets to help control his urges.

She gave a slow nod. He didn't miss the way one hand automatically reached out for him as she took a step forward, but then she stopped, looking confused. Draco wondered where the Weaslette had gone…he shook his head. She wasn't a Weasley anymore.

"Where's Potter?" he asked. "I think it would be good if she was in here with us."

Hermione's confusion seemed to only deepen at that statement. "Ginny's making some tea."

"I have to tell you something, but I – I think you'd like her here for support." He watched, fascinated, as her chin rose defensively, and her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her bust.

"If you're here to tell me you don't want to see me again, Malfoy, just be done with it." Her voice shook with emotion. "I realize I probably overreacted a bit this morning, I was just so –"

Draco couldn't stop himself, her hurt and anxiety had welled up in him the same way it must have risen in her. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he crossed to her in three long strides. He grasped her upper arms and pulled her forcefully into his embrace, burying his face into the damp hair at the crown of her head. "No, Hermione, no." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control longings he knew were being brought on by the soul bond and her proximity. His voice was soft, but his tone was slightly urgent. "That's not it, you silly witch. Not at all. I swear."

Her relief was palpable as she melted into him, her arms snaking around his torso, her hands sliding up his back. He gritted his teeth, stifling a groan. It got worse when she turned her head and raised herself on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on the side of his jaw. He jerked in her arms, physical needs becoming extremely overwhelming. Hermione's instant flood of lust mingled with his own and she tilted her head back, begging him with her eyes to kiss her. He let out a soft moan as his head dipped to do just that before he was able to jerk the reins of his control and come back to himself.

"Wait," Draco said gruffly. Gently – but firmly – he pushed her away from him. Another needy sound escaped him as he took in her glazed look of desire. Needing to maintain control, he whirled away from her, dragging a hand over his face in frustration.

He felt her confusion – and she could probably feel his frustration and hunger for her. Then, a wave of fear crashed through him. It was definitely not his emotion and he spun back to her, his eyes wide. Unexpectedly, all emotions that weren't his faded in a breath of a second later.

"What is happening?" Her voice was almost deadly calm, her face smooth and void of emotion. Hermione had put up Occlumency shields. "Draco…" she trailed off. Her voice trembled terribly.

"I know, I know," he said, trying to reassure. "I'm trying to control mine, too."

Her face became a mask of incredulity as her shields slipped and he felt her surprised reaction slither through. He gently raised his Occlumency shields, trying to help keep her calm – trying to keep _himself_ calm.

"What do you mean?! Trying to control _what_?" Hermione demanded.

"Is everything okay in here?" Ginny appeared in the doorway carrying a tea service, confused by the tones in the voices she was overhearing.

"Please put that down," Draco directed the redhead. When she looked affronted, he continued, "I need your help, Potter." His voice softened with a touch of desperation. "Please, Ginny, put the tray down and hold Hermione's hand. Keep me away from her, okay?"

Ginny looked utterly perplexed as she set the tray on the coffee table. She took in Malfoy's deadly calm expression and Hermione's blank face. "What is going on?"

"We have our Occlumency shields up," Draco explained as Ginny crossed the room back to Hermione and laced their fingers together.

"Hermione, I want you to take your shields down," Draco said softly. "I'm going to take mine down, too. I need you to feel what I'm feeling so you know I'm telling you the truth, okay?"

"Draco…" Hermione whispered. Her voice was threaded with fear, her eyes were wide. He watched as her face drained of color. Then she did as she had been asked, letting her shields fall. He saw the return of her need for him, the desire to be with him; saw the confusion and fear in her eyes, felt it in his heart. Under it all, he could sense an emotion she was trying to suppress. It warmed his heart even though it was probably the one that terrified her the most.

Draco let his own shields slip and was overcome with a desperate need to go to her, to hold her until her fear stopped. Above all that, he wanted her…he…loved her. His heart exploded with it and Hermione gasped, a hand covering her mouth as tears slipped down her cheeks. He knew she could feel it – part of him was mortified, the other part of him didn't care who knew. He wanted the whole world to know.

Ginny looked from one to the other, bewilderment and distress playing in the features on her face. "Are one of you going to tell me what the hell is going on here? This is seriously intense. I don't understand!" She placed her free hand on her hip in attempts to look threatening. Her eyes widened when Draco, ignoring her completely, attempted to stalk Hermione. Wildfire was bright in his eyes and lust clearly written on the features of his handsome face.

_Merlin, me. If he came at _me_ like that, I'd shag him on the coffee table with the neighbors watching! _Then she remembered she had a job to do.

"Hey now!" Letting go of Hermione, Ginny put both hands up and stepped in front of him. "You told me not to let you touch her – go sit on the effing couch!" She gave him a slight push; he looked down at her hands in surprise and shook his head, trying to clear it.

Meanwhile, Hermione was wrapping her arms around herself. Her strongest emotions were fear and confusion, but that hadn't completely stopped the animalistic reaction to him when he had attempted stalking her like innocent prey. She wasn't ready to feel so intensely for another man, it was too soon and too fast. This was completely surreal. She could sense his lust for her, but more engulfing were his feelings of love and affection – why could she feel _his_ emotions?!

She watched as Ginny forced Draco back until he was sitting in the corner of the loveseat. He appeared to be in better control of himself. Ginny turned to find Hermione feasting on her lower lip.

"Mione, stop," she chastised her best friend. "You're going to make that lip bleed!" She picked a spot on the couch and indicated Hermione should join her by patting the cushion next to her. "Sit."

Hermione complied, even though every fiber of her being wanted a very different seat…

"Out with it, Malfoy," Ginny demanded as Hermione made herself comfortable. Draco leaned forward in his seat; both of his elbows supported on his knees. Dropping his head, he cupped his hands behind his neck and rubbed.

"There is really no easy way to say this, so…I'm just going to come out with it, and it'll have to be what it is…" he trailed off. The pause lasted too long.

"Malfoy!" Ginny snapped and watched as his head snapped up. He heaved in a huge breath of air before speaking.

"Hermione, you and I soul bonded today when I kissed you in the café." It was said in the rush of a single breath and he flinched at the incredulous look on Ginny's face. Then he turned to Hermione and forgot everything else.

Her face was flushed with what appeared to be relief, her eyes bright with understanding. He could feel a gush of affection flow through him. Her affection for him! He almost groaned aloud with the desperation of it and she actually did let out a soft noise of pleasure.

"_What_?!" Ginny's shriek of shock made the soul bound couple wince.

"Draco…" Hermione breathed, ignoring Ginny completely. She stared at him in obvious shock but he could see it on her face the very second it all came together for her . "Are you…sure? I didn't…I didn't…see the silver light."

His eyes slid shut in relief. Hermione knew about soul bonds – of course she did, she knew about _everything_. She didn't sound upset and he wasn't perceiving any anger or sadness. His chest had filled with a light peaceful feeling. "Your eyes were closed," he returned, whispering the words.

"That certainly makes all this more understandable," she said, sounding awed. "I just... Draco, I'm not sure I'm ready for this."

He nodded his understanding. "I know, I'm so sorry. I…I had no idea this would happen." His eyes never wavered from hers, he desperately wanted to go to her, wanted her to come to him.

"How could you?" she murmured. "No one can know until it happens. We just thought we liked each other."

"We do like each other, it's…it's just so much more than that, now." Draco replied, avidly watching her lip disappear into her mouth again, he had clenched his jaw to keep the visceral reaction at bay. He couldn't believe what that simple gesture made his body feel.

"What do we do now?" Her voice sounded small, and he could feel a bit of fear seeping in around the wonder. "Draco…it's too soon. My…my kids will n-never understand!"

Unexpectedly, she burst into tears. _Gods in Heaven, that fucking hurts!_ Draco grasped his chest when her guilt and shame washed over him. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling at her feet, not even sure how he got there. He had to have catapulted over the damned coffee table. Draco had her face in his hands, had pulled her forehead to touch his and was murmuring frantically to her, wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. Pressing gentle kisses to the bridge of her nose and corners of her lips, trying his best to calm her. It felt as though she had always been in his arms, he was amazed at how completely natural this tender intimacy felt.

"It's okay, sweetheart, shh!" he pleaded, eyes locked on hers. "We'll figure it out. We don't have to let this control us. I swear we can take this at whatever pace you want to. I'm so sorry this is happening. So sorry, Hermione. I can't even imagine…"

He had intended to say, 'how you're feeling right now,' but that wasn't quite true, was it? He could imagine exactly what she was feeling, because he, too, felt it. Her anguish, her grief, her guilt – it was utterly all-encompassing. He pressed his lips to her forehead as her hands came to wrap around his wrists, holding him to her.

"I know we will, Draco," she answered in a scratchy, tear-stained voice. "I know it'll be okay." She wasn't sure how she knew, but there it was.

If Draco had been worried that their physical contact would push them into overdrive, he had been wrong. Right now, all that mattered was Hermione's grief and guilt and his desire to soothe it away. He needed to reassure her that everything would be okay, that he wasn't going to let the bond push her into something she wasn't ready for yet. He was relieved to find that her voicing her unpreparedness for a physical relationship seemed to temper the bond. It was almost as if the bond was responding to her more pressing emotional needs as well as allowing him to overcome his physical desires in order to help care for her.

Through everything that was happening, Ginny Potter, neé Weasley stared at them in complete shock. This was totally and completely … what? Incomprehensible? Horrifying? Amazing? Bewildering? Shocking? Wonderful? She wasn't sure how to feel.

It was one thing to have her sister-in-law be casually dating Malfoy. If it had been a normal progression, where the relationship had built slowly, she would have had time to adjust. To help Hermione with the transition. To assist her in breaking the news to their family _if_ it turned into love. It was an entirely different situation to find Hermione soul bonded to the one and only Draco Malfoy. Their childhood enemy.

Her parents, to this day, despised the Malfoys for what the patriarch of the family had done to her in her first year with Riddle's diary. They would not take well to this relationship. And Harry. _Oh, sweet Merlin – Harry!_

Harry was going to flip his lid. He was nowhere near ready for Hermione to date, let alone be in love. The fact that it was Malfoy would only make it ten times worse. She raised a hand to rub her forehead, she could feel a headache coming on.

As Ginny watched Malfoy and Hermione whisper to each other and exchange gentle touches and kisses and endearments, she knew that's what it was. It was love, or it would be in no time flat. How could it not be? If it was a soul bond, they literally had no choice in the matter. Nor would they ever want to have a choice. They had been born to be with each other.

What an incredibly romantic way to fall in love, though. Ginny gave a little wistful sigh. Every little witch's fantasy was to soul bond someday. There were fairy tales and fiction galore in the wizarding world that depicted the phenomenon.

Ultimately, as she continued to watch her best friend in the whole world with a man she had despised for most of her adolescence, Ginny began to feel a sense of peace wash over her.

Yes. This was going to be hard.

Very hard.

Hermione was going to need her to lean on as she figured it all out. Ginny would need to stand firmly by Hermione's side against her own husband, her siblings, and her parents until they realized there was no stopping this. That it would be fruitless to try and put an end to it.

The family would just have to realize that their Hermione was going to be loved and cared for so very well. Making her happy, keeping her safe and protected and cared for would be his utmost desire. Hermione's love for her children would inspire his own love for them and they, too, would want for nothing. All their material and emotional needs would be seen to with the greatest of care. All Ginny's worry for them would be able to be put to rest. She would no longer have to fear that Hermione might lose herself completely in her grief. Someone now existed to help heal the hidden wounds in her best friend's heart.

When Ginny came out of her thoughts, it was to find the couple kissing deeply. Granted, their hands were staying in appropriate places, and it wasn't like they were tearing each other's clothes off. But hadn't she just heard Hermione say she wasn't ready for a physical relationship?

"Hey!" she shouted, making the couple jump apart guiltily. Ginny suppressed a snort of laughter in favor of trying to look stern and motherly. "How are you guys going to handle being alone if you can't go thirty seconds without shoving your tongues down each other's throats?" Hermione's cheeks were flushed crimson and Draco (_I can't believe I'm already thinking of him as Draco_) looked properly abashed.

"Not gonna lie, Potter," the blond man answered with a sheepish smirk on his face while carding a hand through his hair, "it really doesn't feel like we have much control over ourselves."

"We have to figure out how to get control, though, Draco," Hermione said softly, attempting to smooth her hair out of her eyes. "If we can't, I agree with Ginny. I don't think we should be alone. I don't want to do anything I would regret because -"

Ginny broke in, her voice laced with sympathy, "Hermione, listen. I know you're feeling uneasy about this, but…it's a freaking_ soul _bond. You get what that means, right? You were _destined_ to be together. You will never want to stray; you'll never have to worry about him straying. He will love you unconditionally for the rest of your life, and you will do the same for him.

"I'm just going to say this to get it off my chest – and it doesn't mean that you shouldn't take all the time you need. You're the one that knows your own heart. However, don't fight this because of guilt. You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty."

Hermione's eyes were soft and shiny with unspilled tears. "Thank you, Ginny."

Ginny gave her friend a gentle smile but said nothing. She watched with warm eyes as Draco slowly slid in beside Hermione, pulling her into his chest. Hermione's arms wrapped around his torso and she lay her head on his shoulder, sighing as her eyes closed in utter contentment.

For the first time since Ron had died, Ginny felt hope blossom in her chest. It seemed that true happiness for her friend was just around the corner.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

*** "Stand." Written by Blair Daly and Danny Orton. Performed by Rascal Flatts from their album ****_Me and My Gang_**


	13. Thinking About You

Life has just been... meh. We both are struggling to write. We've had this chapter ready forever, but have been waiting to post to try and get a buffer going, but it hasn't happened yet. The last week or so we've been talking about stories again and trying to write, so we're posting with the hope to get words flowing again, but we're not sure when the next update might come. We hope you are all well - thank you all so much for your patience. Lots of love! ~Lissa & Snow

* * *

**BETAs: **RaynePhoenix2 - Brit Picker  
sab81790  
thebeebeegun**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen  
****Thinking About You  
**

* * *

**_"I've been spending all my time just thinking about you. I don't know what to do, I think I'm falling for you." *_**

* * *

**October 7****th****, 2012**

His heart was racing, knowing she was coming. They had decided to meet at the same coffee shop as the morning before. The night had been excruciating, being away from her was physically painful, like an ache that settled deep into his bones. He'd barely slept at all and had resorted to taking a quarter of a dose of dreamless sleep around three in the morning just to get a little bit of rest.

Draco could feel Hermione's unease and anxiety through their connection, and knew that she could feel his restlessness. For both of them, there was an underlying longing that called to each other.

While he knew from lore that the beginning stages of being bonded were overwhelming, he had the reassurance from the literature (which he had devoured for a large portion of the prior evening) that what would happen over the following months would be nothing short of the most sappiest of love stories.

The bond didn't take away their free will, nor did it take away their opinions, so he was sure that he and Hermione would be in for some seriously intense debates and arguments. It wouldn't take away their hesitancies or insecurities, either, so even though their minds knew that they were irrevocably in love with one another, and that love would only deepen and grow, the whole 'new relationship' feeling would progress as normal. Honestly, the bond meant that their souls had found each other over and over throughout time. That they'd had countless lifetimes together; that they were a _perfect _match.

He knew the moment she saw him, there was a surge of excitement mingled with relief and he turned immediately, his own shoulders lowering as some tension left him. Hermione started moving more quickly through the small crowd of people who littered the London street front so early on this Sunday morning, and Draco realized that she was going to throw herself at him. He grinned and opened his arms to receive her.

She didn't disappoint; her body was suddenly flush against his as her arms wrapped around his waist and her face buried itself in his chest. Draco wrapped her up tight and hooked her head under his chin, savoring the feeling of her in his arms. Peace. Tranquility. Completeness. The longing was gone, the restlessness disappeared. She was here – and he was relieved.

Fuck – how was he supposed to get anything done? The only time in the last twenty four hours that he had felt any sort of peace was when he was touching her. He wanted to take a month off work and disappear with her. Make love to her until she was mindless. Never stop touching her. His mind flashed with visions of staring down at her, moving inside her as she came around his cock while screaming his name.

"Oh my god," she muttered. "I can feel what you're feeling – and … and you should probably let me go."

Draco was dragged back to the present and was flushed with embarrassment to realize that her hands were on his hips, pushing gently against him, trying to get away.

"I'm so sorry," he choked and let her go, looking anywhere but at her face.

"It's okay," she replied quickly and caught his eye. The electricity that sizzled between them was palpable. She flushed darker. "I'm –" she broke herself off and cleared her throat. "I think it's a good thing we met up in public."

Draco shoved his hand through his hair and turned away from her, pulling open the door of the shop. "Come on, let's go in." He moved to put his palm on her back, but stopped himself.

She smiled gently as she turned her face up to him. "It's okay if you touch me, Draco. I feel much more calm when you do."

"Oh, thank Merlin," he told her softly, cupping the small of her back and guiding her into the coffee shop. "Me, too," he brushed a kiss across her temple as she settled into step beside him and smiled slightly when her lovely eyes found his.

They wound up standing in line with his arm around her shoulders and her leaning into him. When they sat at a table a few minutes later, it was hip to hip, so they were touching. They were quiet for a long time, well over ten minutes. Just sipping their drinks while pressed together from hip to knee, basking in the peace they received by just being together.

Finally, Hermione set her tea down and rested her head on Draco's shoulder before quietly asking, "How do we want to do this?"

"I think we should tell my parents first." He had been thinking about it all night, and it made sense to him. "Astoria has been gone a lot longer, and I think they'll be more receptive…" He trailed off as Hermione cringed slightly, his face falling as he felt her worry and doubt.

"Please don't be upset," she murmured, feeling the combination of indignation and defensiveness that rose in him. "I mean – I know they're your parents…but they're not going to take this well, are they?"

"I – I'm not completely sure how they're going to react," he told her honestly. "But from what you told me about Potter last month, we can bet that his reaction is going to be volatile." His feelings of defensiveness were erased when she lazily laced their fingers together. She shifted in her seat until he moved an arm behind her and let her snuggle into his side.

"Harry is going to be a problem," she agreed sadly, "and I have a feeling that Molly will also be… less than thrilled."

Draco sighed after a moment of silence. "I think Father will take it harder than Mother," he murmured. "My mother has just wanted me to be happy for years now. I don't think she'll care who it's with – especially when she finds out about the soul bond. My father… well, he's been clinging to the old ways, even if it's not been with the same intensity as the past."

There was silence again, and Draco nuzzled Hermione's hairline with his nose while she traced idle patterns across his knuckles with his thumb. She spoke next, "I think Rose will be difficult, she and Ron were very close."

"I can be patient with your children, Hermione," he promised softly as he placed a kiss on her temple. "I'll never replace their father. In your heart or in theirs, but I will care for them as if they were mine. I swear it."

He wasn't surprised when the flood of grief mixed with relief surged through him, nor did her sniffles startle him.

"I'll be the best mum to Scorpius, too. I promise - I'll love him so much." The declaration from her was heartfelt and moving.

Unable to help himself any longer, he reached to tilt her head up and captured her lips in his. The kiss was kept chaste and brief, fully aware they were in a very public setting. "We'll weather this together," he insisted gently, but firmly, "and it will all work out in the end."

* * *

**October 10****th****, 2012**

"Mother, Father?" Draco called as he stepped out of the entrance floo. It was foolish to call for them, the Manor was so huge and they could literally be anywhere. There was a _crack!_ and a familiar elf popped into existence. "Tinny, wonderful. Do you know where my parents are by chance?"

"They's being in Master Lucius' study, Master Draco," the little elf responded in her squeaky voice.

"Thank you, Tinny," Draco said dismissively, moving past the elf to make his way to the study.

It had been three days since he had seen Hermione last and he was aching with longing for her. She, however, had insisted they spend some time apart to get control of themselves, and he had reluctantly agreed. In addition, he had promised her that he would talk to his parents about what had happened and arrange a time for the four of them to have dinner together.

Draco had promised her a week, and she had agreed. He hadn't seen her at group Wednesday night – not that he had expected to. However, he couldn't wait any longer. It was starting to become physically painful to be away from her and he wondered if she was starting to feel the nausea and panic as well.

"Oh hello, Draco! My darling!" Narcissa greeted, glancing up from swatches of fabric she was contemplating while Lucius looked over his wire rimmed reading glasses from where he was seated perusing an ancient looking text.

"Good afternoon, Mother…Father." He nodded to Lucius while leaning to give Narcissa a kiss on the cheek. "I was hoping I could have a few moments of your time."

"Of course, Son," Lucius responded automatically, placing a bookmark between the pages he was reading and snapping the tome shut. Narcissa, likewise, put down her work.

Running his hand nervously through his hair, Draco took a deep breath to steady himself before beginning to speak. "Something…really incredible happened to me – "

"It's the young lady you've been thinking about, isn't it?" Narcissa was unable to control the giddy happiness in her voice.

Draco smiled crookedly. For once, his mother had it right in one. "It is," he answered softly.

There was silence as his parents watched him expectantly. "Continue?" Lucius prompted after the quiet stretched too long.

"This is…this is really hard," Draco sighed, trying to find the right words. "I – I took her out for coffee. We had a great time – talked non-stop, nothing felt forced, she was easy to laugh with. But then I kissed her and everything changed so drastically – " He broke himself off, it was coming out so wrong. It was so much bigger than this.

"Who is she?" His mother was practically bouncing in her excitement. "She's obviously special, she's hooked you completely."

"Narcissa. Settle down, Love," Lucius scolded, amused.

"It's…you have to promise to keep an open mind, because there's no going back now." Draco squeezed his eyes shut._ Merlin – it sounds like I knocked her up. _Why did he keep making this whole situation more awkward?

"What happened when you kissed her, Draco? Fireworks? Sparks? Butterflies?" Narcissa was grinning ear to ear with her loving teasing.

"A soul bond." There – he said it. Spit it out, actually, with no warm up. There was a pause that lasted a bit too long. In fact, he thought maybe they didn't hear him, but then –

"Excuse me?"

"Impossible."

Narcissa and Lucius spoke together, obviously astonished. Then, Lucius started to laugh.

"Impossible," Narcissa repeated and fluttered her fingers in dismissal. A worried expression crossed her face. "There hasn't been a soul bond in England in over two-hundred years."

"The witch, Draco," Lucius prompted, his eyebrows raised in continued surprise.

Draco felt his face burn red. His father was still laughing – and Lucius Malfoy rarely laughed – it made him quite uncomfortable. Because of this, her name spilled out the same way his proclamation of the soul bond had. "Hermione Granger-Weasley."

Both of his parents seemed to freeze for a moment before Narcissa's hand rose to cover her now unsmiling mouth while Lucius' lips tightened into an unbelieving line. Then, there was silence. Loud, heavy silence.

Draco's stomach filled with dread when, after an inexcusable amount of time, his parents exchanged wary, knowing looks.

"Is this you acting out? Are you having your rebellion stage in your early thirties?" Narcissa asked quietly.

"What? No!" Draco exclaimed hotly. "Are you kidding me?"

"I think what your mother is concerned about, Son, is that Ms. Granger-Weasley is…very high profile," Lucius started, rising from his seat behind the desk. He continued as he moved to sit next to Narcissa. "And a Muggle-born. Here you told us not that long ago that you would date anyone you cared to. Is this just you proving yourself? Are you _certain _it's a soul bond?" He took Narcissa's hand in his and pulled it into his lap, obviously offering the witch his comfort.

"I'm very certain," Draco said the words on a shaky exhale. He sank down into a chair opposite his parents. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Weasley has barely been dead six months." Dropping his face into his hands, he told them, "She…she's having a hard time."

His parents communicated silently, worried looks marring their features before turning their attention back to their son. "Are you sure she's not…tricking you somehow?" Narcissa asked cautiously. "I mean!" she held up a hand when Draco's head snapped up, his expression furious and protective. "You are quite the catch – handsome, rich, intelligent. We've had this discussion before. She's a newly widowed mum of two – are you _sure _she's not just looking to fill the hole in her life?"

"Mother, I can't –. I don't know if that statement even – " he broke himself off a second time before pushing himself to stand and pace. His parents watched him sweep back and forth half a dozen times before he turned to them again. "Mother! How could you – ?" Draco couldn't even form a coherent sentence; he was so appalled with Narcissa's question. However new, the deeply rooted protection he felt for Hermione was screaming at him to defend her. Rationally, however, he knew his parents were just looking out for him.

He sucked in a deep breath and gave the evidence he had. "No, she didn't _plan_ this. I asked _her_ out!"

"That doesn't mean – " Narcissa started, not even waiting a beat. Lucius broke her off with a gentle hand to the side of her face.

"All right, Draco," he said, his rich tenor voice soothing. Narcissa's eyes snapped to her husband's at his placating tone. "So you soul bonded with Hermione Granger. It's probably best you arrange a time for all of us to get together so we can discuss the next steps? I'm sure I speak for your mother as well when I say it seems imperative we get to know her better. She will be our daughter-in-law sooner than later if the literature surrounding soul bonds is correct – yes?"

Nothing could have shocked Draco more than those words, and apparently his mother felt the same way. Uncharacteristically, Narcissa was gaping at her husband.

"I – er, of course, Father," Draco answered unsurely. "Are you free Friday evening?" he directed his question at Narcissa. "It would be best if we had dinner out, perhaps? Hermione hasn't been in the Manor since the war…" he trailed off, the hesitation of having his soulmate in his home abundantly clear.

"Oh, no," Lucius said firmly. "If she will be the next Malfoy bride, she will have to become used to being at this estate, and quickly," he argued. "No time like the present." Draco gave a stiff nod, knowing not to argue with Lucius' tone of voice.

"Lucius, you cannot possibly believe this!" Narcissa said stiffly.

"If it was a soul bond, Narcissa, there is hardly anything we can do." Lucius shrugged. "Draco seems sure, therefore we need to do right by the girl and start getting to know her." He turned his attention back to a stunned Draco. "Have you consummated the bond?"

Draco could feel the tips of his ears get warm as Narcissa sputtered her protests. "We haven't, Father," he muttered. "She's not ready, I don't blame her. I didn't take a woman to bed for almost a year after Tori died."

Narcissa looked relieved and his father contemplative. "That's probably best. At least we know for certain she's not with child."

"Now I really don't think it's a soul bond," Narcissa stated firmly. "My understanding is that it's an almost primitive need to consummate after the initial kiss."

"Trust me," Draco drawled dryly, shoving his hands in his pockets, "it is. Her emotional needs seem to be more important, however. I'm not exactly willing to take a sobbing woman to bed, Mother. Not even the bond could force me to overlook her grief."

He was astonished to see Lucius' complexion pale a bit.

"And Scorpius?" Narcissa seemed to still be in a daze at what had transpired, she couldn't stop looking at Lucius with an air of disbelief.

"I will see if Iris can take Scorpius Friday night." He paused, raking a hand through his hair. "He's met Hermione," he said softly. "It was…it was before the bond. We were at the park in Diagon Alley and she showed up with her kids. They were all running around and I asked her if she'd keep an eye so I could use the loo." He waved his hand as if to tell them to ignore what he had just said. "Anyway, he took a tumble on the equipment and she got there before I did…and I think he knew, Mum – Dad. I think Score knew she was special. He asked her if she would be his mummy."

* * *

"I'm not ready for this," Hermione whispered to herself as she stared at her reflection. She wanted to crawl into her bed and curl up and sleep. Then, she wanted to wake up and find this had all been a dream. It was too fantastical to be real. To lose Ron only to soul bond with Draco sodding Malfoy mere months later? She would never have believed it if anyone else had claimed such a thing.

"When has your life ever been easy?" she asked herself, petulantly.

"While you were married to Ron," she responded bitterly. She knew better than to believe herself, however. She had loved Ron deeply, but they had not been a perfect pair, not _always_. They had been happy, but they'd had to work hard for their happiness. It wasn't an effortless happily-ever-after.

In fact, after they had married, Hermione had feared she might have made a mistake and had married too soon. After all, Ron had been her school crush and, after the war, they had been so jubilant. There had been a time when she feared they had just gotten swept up in the moment, and after the dust settled, she was left wondering if maybe they weren't so compatible after all. They'd never had much in common, not really. They had loved each other, though, and they had wanted to make it work.

Rose came along after a while, and suddenly they had this amazing gift. They had the biggest commonality that you can share with someone – a child. A precious daughter whom both of their worlds orbited around. Suddenly, she and Ron were closer than ever before.

They had gone from young adults who loved each other, but maybe weren't right for each other, to a family. Their love had deepened and grew. Did they still have their ups and downs? Of course they did! But they had matured and changed and respected each other and the roles they played in each other's lives. When things got a little difficult again, they made the choice to have Hugo. The world righted on its axis once again and the strain lessened. The children had become their priority. They made a wonderful team – just the way they always had before.

Hermione swallowed the heaviness that was threatening to pull her under. She hated to admit (and would never do so out loud) that things with Ron had ever been less than perfect. The longer he was gone from her and the more time she had to spend in her own head feeling guilty about what was happening with Draco, the more she wondered if they would have lasted once the children had all gone to Hogwarts. Would they have had anything left to talk about when it had returned to just the two of them?

They would never find out. She would never know.

She had this thing now – this bond – that was growing and changing and deepening with every passing hour. It developed and strengthened and begged not to be ignored. It was both wilder and more tame with each moment that moved by. It was so much more – _so much more_ – than anything she'd ever had with Ron. And maybe _that_ was why she felt so much guilt. Because Ron would never know this feeling. They had thought the other was it, and now Hermione knew how wrong they had been. Because she had Draco.

**_Draco_**_, Hermione. _She smiled to herself, immediately feeling lighter, almost euphoric. She couldn't deny it. No matter the guilt she had about Ron and how her feelings had changed, nothing had ever felt as right as Draco Malfoy, and nothing ever would. The way his hand melted into hers. The way his lips molded to her own. The way his beautiful, platinum eyes didn't just look at her; they consumed her. The way they talked...about everything…and then nothing at all. It didn't matter. He also understood her grief like no one. It was the kiss, though. That had been the defining change. Where before, she had thought about him constantly, and felt guilty for doing so, now she practically breathed him.

"It's time." Hermione met Draco's nervous stare as he approached her from behind.

"Alright. Let's do this."

* * *

"Mother, Father, you remember Hermione."

"Of course, it's lovely to see you." Narcissa offered warmly as she reached out and took Hermione's hands in her own. "Welcome."

"Mrs. Weasley," Lucius greeted in his typical stoic manner.

"Let's move to the drawing room," Narcissa directed with the practiced ease of a constant hostess.

Draco could tell Hermione was uncomfortable, her shoulders were stiff with tension and her smile lacked its normal warmth. His heart broke for her. He knew, even without their connection via the bond, that this was very difficult.

"You'll find the Manor is much changed," he offered, trying to ease her discomfort. "It's been completely remodeled since… well…"

"We wanted no reminders of the darker times behind us," Lucius interjected, rescuing his son from his obvious difficulty with the English language. At least that's what Draco assumed his father was thinking.

"It's...very nice. Thank you for having me," Hermione responded, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

"Let's just – get to know each other a bit," Narcissa suggested gently as Tinny brought around goblets of Elven wine. "Our son tells us you work at the Ministry?"

_Here we go_,_ let the scrutinizing begin_. Draco had witnessed it time and time again, the way his parents expertly wielded their questions with polite interest, seemingly innocuous and routine, when in truth they were dissecting their subject with the precision of a surgical brain healer.

He watched his father lean back into his preferred wingback chair while his mother situated herself in the Queen Anne, both with polite expressions that masked the deep distrust he knew they harbored toward Hermione. Not that he blamed them, and frankly he expected nothing less. Still, he had hoped for more, all the same.

Hermione explained her role in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and how much she enjoyed her work.

"You're quite young to hold such a senior role in the department," Lucius goaded, because that's what his father was doing, make no mistake about it.

Hermione, however, had been expecting this and explained that nine years in the department was actually more time invested than the actual Department Head, a role Draco was certain she would occupy within a few years.

"Age is just a number," Narcissa interjected with a smile, seeming to come to Hermione's defense. _Seeming_, because Draco knew his mother was merely laying a trap. It was almost like a good Auror, bad Auror game that his parents sometimes chose to utilize.

Of course, Draco had warned Hermione of his parent's antics. He was not about to let her walk into the Manor unprepared. He had also reassured her that the minute she wanted to leave, that's what they would do, no questions asked. It was important to him that his parents accept her, but ultimately it was a want. She was a need. Hermione was fully aware they doubted the bond, at least his mother did. His father had seemed more resigned to it earlier, but presently Draco was getting a different vibe entirely.

"Yes, but they are _house_ elves," Draco heard his father say, suddenly realizing his mind had wandered. "They do what they were born to do. What their ancestors, dating back thousands of years, were born to do. Don't you think what you are promoting is cruel?"

Reminding her of his earlier promise, Draco reached out and took Hermione's hand and gave it a small squeeze. The spark of current that shot up his arm was instant and while it wasn't unpleasant, it caught him off guard. She was tense, as was he, and it caused their connection to be more jarring than normal. He must have physically reacted to the jolt because he didn't miss the way his father's shoulders stiffened, or the way his sharp, assessing gaze swept to their joined hands. Lucius' lips pursed slightly and his eyes narrowed as he shot Narcissa what was obviously a look of extreme concern and no small amount of irritation.

It was his mother's reaction that surprised Draco, however. Instead of matching her husband's obvious display of disapproval, her eyes remained glued to where Draco's hand enveloped Hermione's. He hadn't realized he was stroking Hermione's skin with his thumb, but his mother couldn't seem to look away. Then she looked up, meeting Draco's eyes and the transformation was so drastic, Draco almost didn't believe he was seeing it. The haughty, socialite Narcissa was gone. The mission to discredit this false union was in that instant abandoned. It was as plain as day on his mother's stunned face that she finally understood – finally believed. Her eyes glistened and her hand moved to cover her mouth.

No one was listening to Hermione's words as she passionately defended the rights of house elves. The three Malfoy's were too absorbed in their silent communication, and then Narcissa interrupted, "Hermione, please forgive my husband's rude baiting, and please, call me Narcissa."

"Cissa!" Lucius barked.

"Hush, Lucius. You see what I see. For once in your life, stop fighting a losing battle."

The room was quiet for a minute as everyone absorbed what had just transpired. Lucius abruptly stood, slamming down the last dregs of his wine, before setting his goblet down with a loud clink of the glass. His voice was deadly calm and his stare equally lethal. "You might have hoodwinked my son, you might have fooled my wife, but _I_ am on to you, Mrs. _Weasley_." Without a backward glance he left the room.

Draco smelled victory. With Narcissa's support, he would not have to worry about his father. It was a little known but painfully true fact that Lucius bowed to Narcissa's will on almost everything, eventually. He felt the flickering of doubt and concern poking at his half occluded emotions. Turning to their source, he found Hermione's eyes full of worry as she looked from him to the door Lucius had just exited.

Narcissa didn't need the aid of a soul bond to see what Hermione was thinking. "Please, don't concern yourself about him, my dear. His feathers have been ruffled and he needs some preening time." She looked out the window with a knowing glint in her eye. "A visit to the stables with that crup, Jupiter, will calm him a bit." She sat up taller. "Then, a little submission and ego stroking on my part when he comes to bed tonight will dim whatever fury remains."

Draco threw his head back as he let out a sound of disgust. "Too much information, Mother. _Please_."

* * *

"Fallin' For You". Written by Colbie Caillat and Rick Knowels. Released June 26th, 2009. Performed by Colbie Caillat on her album _Breakthrough_.


End file.
